


Time and Again

by barefootxo



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 38,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5276066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootxo/pseuds/barefootxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Xander Harris goes missing in the Congo, you'll never guess where he ends up. Or perhaps I should say when?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Xander Goes AWOL

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
AN: The Potter-verse is going to start appearing in a significant fraction in the next chapter. This is only the prologue.  
  
~~  
  
[](http://www.tthfanfic.org/Story-11355-183/Methos+Fanart+for+my+favorite+stories.htm)  
  
*Image by [Methos](http://www.tthfanfic.org/AuthorStories-8223/Methos.htm)  
  
**  
  
 _Democratic Republic of the Congo  
July 13th 2004_  
  
Xander Harris had fought the darkness for close to a decade. His journey had taken him from a wipe-out on a skateboard in Sunnyhell High all the way to this moment in the wilds of Africa. The rift was expanding and if Xander didn’t close it then the rift in time and space would disrupt the fabric of reality to the point where all life on Earth would be wiped from existence.  
  
It was times like this when Xander questioned the sanity of demons. Tempus, the Chaos Demon responsible, would be wiped from existence too if the rift continued to expand as it was. Still, he supposed, that was chaos demons. The little buggers were unpredictable.  
  
Xander carefully cut his left palm open, working up a good blood flow. These darn portals were all the same. Blood and life. Xander breathed deep. This time it was his turn. There was no hated vampire or suicidal slayer to take the plunge this time. Xander walked through the rift, unsure of what would happen to him.  
  
It is a quirk of rifts in space/time that the person closing them could be sent anywhere or anywhen, but not both. In the case of Xander Harris, this meant he was sent back around half a century in time. After all, fate was not done with Xander Harris.  
  
**  
  
 _International Council of Watchers, Main Headquarters_  
London, England  
July 30th 2004  
  
“Where’s Xander?”  
  
Rupert Giles sighed dramatically, getting quite tired of the question. It wasn’t that he was happy Xander was gone. On the contrary, Giles was devastated at the loss of the person who was the closest thing he had to a son. It had been over two weeks and there was still no sign of Xander. He had been last seen at the African Headquarters before an urgent call had come in concerning a chaos demon. Nothing more could be found except for a burnt up area that was probably where the battle had taken place.  
  
“For the umpteenth time, Dawn, I haven’t the foggiest idea where Xander is. You have seen all the same reports as I have. If you haven’t discerned Xander’s fate from them, then there is no point in asking me.”  
  
The brunette sat down hard at the rather emphatic pronouncement. In all fairness Giles had every right to be irritated, but the idea that Xander might never be coming back really hit her hard. Finally she nodded sullenly. “Okay Giles, I’ll drop it. What’s next on the agenda for today?”  
  
The man smiled slightly. “A new ally is sending an ambassador to meet with us. They may even be willing to allow us to train potentials and slayers from among their population.”  
  
Dawn’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t aware that there was a nation that the watchers weren’t able to take potentials from. We seem to have treaties with every country known to man…”  
  
The aging man shrugged uncaringly. “These people are not exactly a nation in the normal sense, my dear. They are more of a nation within a nation. They have enclaves within every country in the world. We have been approached by the enclave that represents Great Britain and Ireland as a sort of test case. Assuming that things go well, we can expect to be approached by others of these… wizarding enclaves.”  
  
“Wizarding?” Dawn’s face betrayed her utter confusion. “At first blush I’d expect that to be a mystical society of some sort, but wouldn’t we have heard of it?”  
  
Giles shook his head. “You are correct that they are a mystical society, but their magic is rather different then ours in many ways. They are what one would call sorcerers. This essentially means that their magic comes from within them, usually amplified by a focus of some sort. The type of focus varies significantly between the various enclaves, or so I’m told. Anyway, our type of witches are what would call channelers. They have no inherent magic of their own. Instead they channel the power of a god, a demon or even the earth itself. Channelers have to be particularly mindful of the cost since this magic is not theirs. A sorcerer’s magical power depends upon the size of his or her magical core. A channeler’s, on the other hand, depends upon how much power they can channel through their body at once.”  
  
“And we’ve never heard of them because…?”  
  
“Because wizarding society is completely separate for the most part. They live behind incredibly powerful concealment spells, and have done so since the separation. The separation came about due to events like the Salem Witch Trials and the proliferation of cheap firearms.”  
  
Dawn nodded sagely. She could imagine how such events might drive a society underground. “So they are sending an envoy. When will he get here?” A loud snap cause Dawn to screech and leap towards Giles, searching for a weapon.  
  
“I’m right here.” The smooth voice was eerily familiar.  
  
Dawn stood up and turned around, her jaw dropping at the far older, but certainly familiar face. “How in the…” Words failed her.  
  
Giles was not quite as inarticulate, though his shock was equally palpable. “Good lord, Xander. What happened to you?”  
  
Alexander Harris, special envoy for the Ministry of Magic, grinned manically. “It’s a long, long story, G-man… Longer then you can possibly imagine.”  
  
~~  
  
AN: I'm not entirely happy with the title of this fic so if someone has an epiphany, feel free to let me know... ;)  
  
Jasper


	2. Sorting Things Out

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  
  
 _Headmaster’s Office  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 1st 1994_  
  
“Come in, Minerva!”  
  
Minerva entered the office of her boss with a feeling of being rather taken aback. She had already been put off balance by his rather abrupt letter which had requested her presence in the first place. The rather curt-sounding invitation to enter only served to put her even more ill at ease. “What can I do for you, Albus? You do realise I have things to prepare for tonight?”  
  
The old man looked up and Minerva was shocked by the sheer look of exhaustion on the hundred-and-something-year-old man’s face. “I’m afraid that the curse of the defence position has struck early this year, Minerva.”  
  
McGonagall felt her jaw working soundlessly as she desperately tried to formulate an intelligent response. “What happened? Is Alastor all right?”  
  
Dumbledore heaved out a long suffering sigh and then stood, pacing pensively. “It would appear that Alastor was attacked last night, Minerva. I am not sure by whom or for what purpose. All I can say for sure is that the battle was fearsome and that Alastor was left in a coma as a result. His attackers apparated out quickly just after help arrived.”  
  
“But surely Alastor could have held them off until a rapid-response team from the Auror Command could be scrambled?”  
  
Albus nodded faintly. “I expect that would be so, Minerva. However, it seems that Chief Auror Rufus Scrimgeour believed Alastor had become too paranoid in his old age. Scrimgeour had him removed from the register so that when Alastor’s ‘auror needs assistance’ signal came in, no one answered. The only reason anyone came at all was because Alastor’s security system went off and was stumbled upon by muggles. Arthur Weasley went to smooth things over and found Alastor in his current state.”  
  
Minerva’s lips formed into a fine line, frustrated by Scrimgeour’s incompetence. “Can we expect Alastor to recover, or will he be joining Gilderoy?”  
  
The headmaster’s lips quirked faintly at the memory of that particular defence professor. “Thankfully, Alastor will recover. Unfortunately, he is expected to need most of the year to do so. That, as you can imagine, leaves us without a defence professor.”  
  
The deputy headmistress nodded gravely. Dumbledore’s grim face made much sense in this context. This was the first of September. Students would be arriving in a few hours. It would not do to be lacking a teacher in one of the core classes that Hogwarts offered, especially one of the ‘wanded’ subjects. “A former defence professor?”  
  
Albus shook his head sadly as he sat back down. “Those who survived intact are like Remus. They, for various reasons, want nothing to do with another term in this subject.”  
  
Minerva sighed an moved on. “An auror, then?”  
  
Again the headmaster shot it down. “You will find, Minerva, that few aurors are eager to take a substantial deduction in pay in order to teach today’s youth. Especially when one considers that teaching is a great deal more work.”  
  
“Severus, then? He is always asking about the position.”  
  
“Unfortunately, Minerva, that creates as many problems as it solves. While it would deal with our defence spot, it opens up a potions spot. Severus is one man and cannot be expected to teach both and be head of Slytherin house as well. To move Severus necessitates me finding a qualified potions master to take his post on short notice. If anything, I expect that to be even more difficult.”  
  
A grunt of affirmation was all Minerva offered this time. She was beginning to understand the headmaster’s frustration. It was just too bad that her husband couldn’t do it… Minerva paused. Why couldn’t he? “Albus…”  
  
Dumbledore looked up at Minerva again, noting a change in the lilt of her voice that suggested a solution had been found. “Yes, Minerva?”  
  
“What about my husband?” The suggestion brought a wince to the headmaster’s face but Minerva plowed on anyway. “I know that you two don’t get along Albus, but we are desperate. And with the Tri-Wizard Tournament starting this year we cannot afford to be caught without a defence professor. It would be embarrassing to say the least. Alexander is a trained hunter of dark creatures and was quite active during the first war…”  
  
Albus scowled. “Your husband is a loose cannon…”  
  
McGonagall was becoming frustrated with her old friend. She absolutely hated his tendency to get into pissing matches with her husband, especially since in a war of the words her husband nearly always won. Alexander scoffed openly at Dumbledore’s grandfatherly looks of disappointment when they were pointed at him. “Come now, Albus. I know that he doesn’t walk the line you do, but at least the one he walks goes in the same general direction. Alexander is skilled enough to take the position, he’s impressive enough to keep the other schools in line and he’s on the right side, regardless of the subtle differences in your styles.”  
  
“The man’s policies regarding vampires are…”  
  
“Not in line with your own. I know that. But others feel as he does. Goodness knows he’s very popular in Durmstrang for example…”  
  
“I’m certain he is. His practice of borderline dark…”  
  
“Stop right there Albus or you will have to replace a transfiguration professor, as well. “I’ve known Alexander for around forty years now. He has never used the dark arts in combat. Even when the unforgivables were licenced for use on werewolves and vampires by law, Alexander still refused to use them…”  
  
Albus nodded, conceding the point. “I apologise, Minerva. You really think he would accept a position in an institution I lead?”  
  
Minerva smirked. “I assure you, Albus, Alexander will accept if you send him a request. In fact, I will hand-deliver it.”  
  
Dumbledore suddenly found he didn’t want to know what Minerva might do to persuade her husband. Despite his proclivities, Dumbledore could not begin to understand what attracted Minerva to the one-eyed man…  
  
**  
 _Great Hall_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 1st 1994  
  
“Whitby, Kevin!” Minerva’s voice rang out across the great hall as she called the last name on this year’s list of first years.  
  
A mousy, shy-looking boy trotted up and mashed the sorting hat onto his head. A few moments passed and suddenly the hat’s strident voice was heard, emanating from the seeming rip in its side. “Hufflepuff!” Mr. Whitby hopped up, just barely remembering to drop the hat onto the bench before bolting for the table filled with his new housemates.  
  
Minerva, the sorting complete, picked up the stool and hat and brought them with her to her place at the head table. She idly wondered where in heaven’s name her husband was. If he didn’t arrive soon she promised herself that she’d flay him alive for embarrassing her like that.  
  
As Dumbledore told everyone to tuck in, he threw a significant look her way. Sadly all that Minerva could do was shrug. He still had time. Alexander would be here. He had promised her that much and he had not broken a promise to her yet… well, except his promise to burn his collection of Hawaiian shirts. She was still trying to get that promise enforced.  
  
After a satisfying dinner, Minerva watched as the headmaster began an extensive dissertation on all the things Argus had declared off limits this year. Honestly, someone really needed to buy Filch a sense of humour. Minerva silently shuddered to imagine what Alexander was going to put the man through this year.  
  
Minerva blinked suddenly at Dumbledore’s declaration that quidditch would not be played this year. While she did not contradict him, she prepared herself to argue the point later. Quidditch was not particularly arduous, falling mostly to Madam Hooch. Of equal import were the devastated looks on the faces of Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Fred Weasley and George Weasley. All four of them were in their sixth years. Canceling a full season would put them in a bad position if any of them were considering professional quidditch careers.  
  
Just as Dumbledore was about to announce the Tri-Wizard Tournament, a loud bang echoed through the hall. Minerva looked up and offered a slight smile as her husband strode theatrically through the door. She thought the hat he was wearing was a touch ostentatious, but he despised the typical pointed hat that was required of students. He claimed they looked okay on her but made him look like a tool, whatever that meant… The grey that was creeping across Alexander’s temples only added to the rakish air he portrayed.  
  
Alexander was rather larger and more intimidating then most other wizards. He strongly held the belief that anyone who hunted the dark had to have a strong body to match their strong mind and magic. There were often times when that was all you had available. He had certainly proven it true the once, back in 1980. That was a memory she’d never forget, no matter how much she had wished to at times.  
  
Her husband had apparently gone all out this time. In addition to that absurd hat, he was decked out in his full hunting gear. His scimitar was worn comfortably at his belt and she would wager her family fortune that he had at least two knives concealed on him somewhere. And of course no one could miss the leather patch. It was another of his quirks that Albus seemed to dislike. Instead of getting his eye replaced like most people, Alexander simply wore that eye patch. He claimed that Moody’s eye was only good for scaring small children. As much as Minerva liked Moody, she couldn’t help but agree with her husband’s evaluation.  
  
She glanced over at Dumbledore and was mildly amused by the faint expression of distaste on the old man’s face. She didn’t even have to look to guess Albus was looking at the fur pouch at Alexander’s side. Albus knew what the pouch was, even if the students didn’t.  
  
Minerva smiled faintly as her husband strode confidently up to her side, planting a kiss on her cheek before taking the open space beside her. She couldn’t help but blush faintly as she noted her Gryffindors goggling at her faintly. Honestly, did they think she didn’t have a life outside of her teaching? It was vaguely insulting really.  
  
Albus had apparently managed to get a hold of himself and finally introduced his new staff member to the student body. “May I introduce our new defence professor, Professor Alexander Harris?” And the student body exploded into a thousand different whispered conversations.  
  
Alexander leaned over to her, smirking as usual. She still had money that he would have been a Slytherin. “Do you get the impression they’ve heard of me?”  
  
~~  
  
For those who are curious about Xander's hat, think of Will Turner's hat at the end of Pirates of the Caribbean I: The Curse of the Black Pearl.  
  
FTR: Things that occurred in the intervening years since Xander landed in the nineteen fifties, until now will be mentioned through memories, in conversations, etc... The first couple of decades would have been fairly boring anyway... ;)  
  
Jasper


	3. Throwing the Prof a Curve

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
I'm back ;)  
  
~~  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 6th 1994_  
  
Harry James Potter, known by most as the Boy-Who-Lived, glanced around the classroom warily as he entered his favourite class. You could tell a lot about a professor by the way he decorate his classroom, or his office for that matter.  
  
Quirinus Quirrell’s classroom had been an empty shell, which rather described the wizard himself. It had also smelled strongly of garlic, almost symbolic of the fact that something didn’t smell right about Quirrell.  
  
Gilderoy Lockhart’s classroom was a testimonial of the man’s utter self-absorption. Really, what did pictures of Lockhart and various choice pieces of fan-mail have to do with the subject, anyway?  
  
Remus Lupin’s classroom had always had an interesting dark creature to study, indicating Remus’ primary passion, and hinting at the fact that he himself was a dark creature…  
  
Alexander Harris’ classroom was a confusing sight. At first sight, it actually resembled Lockhart’s. It had an entire wall devoted to pictures. Where it diverged was the fact that these pictures were not of Harris himself. They were photographs of other people. Some were moving, in the characteristic style of wizarding pictures, whilst others were still, in the style of muggle pictures.  
  
There seemed to be no correlation amongst the pictures. Some were old, some were young, some were male, some were female… They weren’t even all human. Some of them were quite clearly of non-human blood.  
  
The second wall was filled with articles, mostly from various wizarding papers, mentioning one atrocity or another. This wall was a little more clear. They were all articles concerning attacks by dark wizards or dark creatures. There was even one about the day his parents died. Interestingly enough it was one from the _Salem Diviner_ , which seemed to stick to the facts rather sensationalising the death of his parents like the _Daily Prophet_ had.  
  
Harry glanced at the head of the room to find his latest teacher sitting behind a large desk, his feet up and his face buried in a copy of the _New York Fortune Teller_ , the wizarding version of the _New York Financial Times_. As people started pouring into the classroom, the teacher continued to ignore the class, presumably waiting for the bell that signaled the beginning of class.  
  
Five minutes later and the class was getting antsy. The bell had rung a full minute ago and the teacher had simply turned the page. Harry noted that Hermione was practically glaring a hole through the teacher’s paper.  
  
Another minute passed by and Draco Malfoy slipped in late, entering and sitting down, his face innocent as only Malfoy could fake. “Two points from Slytherin for being late for class, Mr. Malfoy.”  
  
The Slytherin shot an incredulous glance at the professor, who was only now lowering his paper and standing up. “But the class hadn’t even started yet, Professor…” The whiny voice grated on more then a few.  
  
Harris shrugged. “Of course it hadn’t. I was rather hoping to start with a full classroom. Since you were late, you wasted my time and the time of your fellow students. Next time, don’t be late.”  
  
“When my father hears about this…”  
  
“If Lucius Malfoy wishes to speak to me, he is always welcome. I look forward to completing a conversation he and I had during the war.” The unmistakable hint of threat was in the air now.  
  
“My father was a victim of the imperious curse.”  
  
The professor grinned. “That so? Well then, I’m sure you’ll enjoy my lesson on the unforgivables later. I suspect it will be educational for you…”  
  
Harris seemed to dismiss Draco from his thoughts and began to address the classroom. “I am not going to bore you lot by calling attendance. I can see that you are all here and my wards tell me the same. I am Alexander Harris, yes that Alexander Harris for those among you who may have heard of me.  
  
“This first class will include a fairly extensive exam on just what you should have been learning this past three years. I am doing this because there are rumours that the teaching in this class has been largely substandard. I therefore need to know how much catching up you people need to do. This exam will be a simple pass or fail test. You pass if you can convince me you gave it your all. You fail if I am unconvinced.” Harris snapped his fingers theatrically and an exam appeared on every desk. “You may begin.”  
  
The test took a full hour to complete for Harry. The next students managed to complete the work fifteen minutes after Harry. After an hour and forty-five minutes, only three were left. Neville Longbottom and Gregory Goyle were two of the weakest in the class and were therefore a good deal slower then their classmates. Hermione was writing a bloody novel, it seemed, probably to make sure she wasn’t accused of not giving it her all. “Time’s up!” Hermione looked panicked, but still handed her test up, as did Neville and Goyle.  
  
The defence professor sat on his desk and stared out at the class. “I will not be teaching you much for today’s class. I’d like to get an idea of how much you know before we delve into anything too taxing and I’m sure you folks don’t want to spend the rest of the class watching me read your exams over. Instead I will be teaching you the sort of thing that this class does not normally teach.”  
  
Hermione was positively twitching in her seat, but seemed able, just barely, to maintain her silence.  
  
The professor ignored her and continued. “Would you all please turn around and look at the pictures on the rear wall?”  
  
Harry stood and was once again confronted with the confusing slough of pictures on the wall. What were they all about?  
  
The Harris’ voice shattered Harry’s thoughts. “Has anyone caught the common thread amongst those pictures?”  
  
The classroom was silent as everyone considered. Harry quickly concluded from the confused expressions abounding that everyone was just as stumped as he was. Even Hermione looked uncertain. She raised her hand anyway.  
  
“Yes, Miss Granger?”  
  
“They’re all dead.”  
  
Most of the students, Harry and Hermione included, turned about to see the teacher nodding. “Almost correct, Miss Granger, though not quite precise enough. That is certainly as much as I expected anyone to guess. Take two points for Gryffindor.  
  
Harris locked eyes with each and every person in the classroom, one at a time. “Most of the people on that wall are dead, and those few who are not are not ever expected to recover. They are people who were my friends, at one point or another, and who fell in battle, fighting the night.”  
  
The man sighed. “Warriors of the dark side can be clever, cunning and cruel. They can come in many unexpected shapes and sizes. The sad truth is that one day you may fighting a member of the dark side who wears the face of one you once called friend.”  
  
Here Harry flinched, wondering if Harris was referencing Sirius. If he was, he didn’t even glance at Harry. “The people on the wall behind you were not victims. Every single one of them died or fell as a true hero. Some are known to you, I am sure. Others are known only to me. But rest assured they were all heroes. That is one thing that this class is not meant to teach, but I will teach you anyway. Remember the fallen. Honour those who fell before you and fought for the light.”  
  
The class proceeded into a solemn silence that even Draco did not dare break. It went on for a full minute before the professor himself broke it. “Now, are there any questions for me about my class or myself?”  
  
Hermione’s arm was up like a shot.  
  
“Yes, Miss Granger.”  
  
“What do you plan to teach us this year?”  
  
The teacher acknowledged her with a nod. “First I plan to make sure everyone is up to date on what you should already know. If what I’ve seen in other classes applies to you as well, then I fully expect that second year, in particular, was a completely wasted year as far as this class is concerned. After that I intend to cover the fourth year curriculum that is listed in your handbooks and to cover defending against the unforgivables, alternative defence tactics and the various ways to kill or hurt a vampire. Next?”  
  
Hermione’s hand shot up again, but this time was joined by Harry’s. He hadn’t had any questions before, but he certainly did now.  
  
The defence teacher nodded at him. “Yes, Mr. Potter?”  
  
“What exactly is the handbook, Sir?”  
  
Most of the student body gave Harry a look that suggested he was a moron. Malfoy was grinning like the cat that got the cream. The teacher himself merely arched his brow in curiosity. “You are muggle-raised, are you not, Mr. Potter?”  
  
The question seemed odd, but Harry figured it was known to most people. “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”  
  
The teacher’s eyes narrowed at the faintly disrespectful tone, but the man did not discipline Harry. Not yet, anyway. “Your handbook should have been given to you with the rest of the standard muggleborn package. It is usually hand-delivered, along with your letter, by a Hogwarts professor. I take it yours was missing from the package?”  
  
Now Harry was starting to get slightly angry. Something strange was going on, and everyone seemed to understand it but him. “I never got any muggleborn package.”  
  
The defence professor frowned. “This is a concern, Mr. Potter. I would like to return to questions pertaining to the class, for the moment, but see me after. You and I need to have a chat.”  
  
Harry saw the man was serious and decided to accept being put off for the moment. “Yes, Sir. I’ll be there.”  
  
The man nodded as if pleased. “Excellent. Any other questions?”  
  
“Is it true that you kill werewolves?”  
  
Harris’ eye locked on a Slytherin student who had spoken out of turn. “Please wait until I call on you in the future, Mr. Nott. I kill werewolves when they prove themselves to be a danger to themselves or to the community. To date, I have only met two werewolves that I believed were beyond redemption. The first was killed by another werewolf, so I didn’t have to do the job. The second was Fenrir Greyback. I’m sure you’ve heard what I did to that beast…”  
  
Nott shuddered slightly. His father had been witness to Alexander’s battle with Greyback. The boy was, as a result, very wary of the scimitar at Harris’ side. He knew very well that the blade was no showpiece.  
  
“They are not beasts. They are sentient beings who…”  
  
“One point from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, Miss Granger. I have given one warning to one of your classmates.” Here Harris gestured to Nott. “I am a firm believer that ignorance of a rule can be excused only once. After that you know the rule and are bound by it.”  
  
The Gryffindor looked like she wanted to argue but was cut off as the teacher continued. “As for werewolves, I am well aware that they are sentient beings. I described Greyback as monster, not werewolves in general. Now, are there any other questions?”  
  
No one spoke up this time or raised a hand. Hermione appeared a little caught off guard. She wasn’t used to being taken to task by anyone but Snape, especially for something she actually did.  
  
Professor Harris looked them over and appeared satisfied for the moment. “Excellent. Class officially ends in three minutes, so let’s get to homework. I would like a three to four foot essay concerning Fenrir Greyback and whether I was right to end him. Make certain to reference his various actions in the newspapers, as well as reference books. You may take either side of the debate. I will not mark you down if you defend him. However, do be sure to explain yourself well. I do not mark people down for disagreeing with me, but I do expect them to defend their positions.”  
  
Harris glanced at his watch and nodded. “All of you, save Mr. Potter are dismissed. Mr. Potter, if you’d come up here please…”  
  
~~  
  
And so it begins...  
  
Jasper


	4. A Minor Setback

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 6th 1994_  
  
“You wanted to see me, Professor?”  
  
Xander glanced up at his student as he sat back down behind his desk. “Yes I did, Mr. Potter. Tell me, were you briefed on the magical world prior to receiving your first letter?”  
  
Harry shook his head. “No, it was about a week after that, Professor.”  
  
The professor nodded as if that was expected. “Okay then, you should have been officially classed as a muggle-raised child and given the standard muggleborn package, including the Hogwarts student handbook I have mentioned. Who was the professor who introduced you to our world?”  
  
“Hagrid, sir.”  
  
Xander’s one eye narrowed in irritation. “I asked you which ‘professor’ gave you your introduction, Mr. Potter. Who was it?”  
  
Harry shrugged helplessly. “It was Hagrid, sir.”  
  
A snarl echoed through the room. “Rubeus Hagrid is a groundskeeper, Mr. Potter. He is not a professor.”  
  
“Hey, Hagrid is great. He…”  
  
Xander cut Harry off with a glare. “I am not here to evaluate the man’s worth or lack of worth, Mr. Potter. The simple fact is that all Hogwarts professors are trained to handle first contact with the muggleborn or raised and Mr. Hagrid, wonderful being though he may be, has not had any of that training. Now, what professor gave you your introduction?”  
  
Harry was starting to feel rather sheepish. “If Hagrid doesn’t qualify, then I suppose no one did. Professor McGonagall wrote my letter but she certainly never met with me.”  
  
Xander waved the boy off on that track. “My wife pens all of the letters, regardless of who meets with you students. It’s one of the responsibilities she has as Deputy Headmistress.”  
  
Harry tried desperately not to gape. “Your wife, sir?”  
  
The professor grinned slightly. “What, did you think she just sat in the castle twiddling her thumbs in her free time? I’ll have you know that we’ve been married for a fair few decades now.”  
  
“But, but her name…”  
  
“Remains the same, yes. It’s a simple fact that many married women in the wizarding world use their maiden names in their professions. My wife is not alone in that. Amelia Bones is married, but she uses her maiden name for her position. Your own mother used Evans when she was alive during her tenure as a substitute charms professor during that week where Professor Flitwick was fighting off the dragon pox.”  
  
Harry was practically salivating. This was information on his mother. Most other professors tended to focus on his father, both for positive and negative comments. It was fascinating to discover that his mother had used her maiden name professionally speaking and had, in fact, taught briefly at Hogwarts.  
  
While Harry was digesting the information he’d just picked up on his mother, Xander remained oblivious and was trying to get back on track. “This is rather disquieting. So you never got the muggleborn package and you never got a proper introduction to our world. On the other hand, we know it wasn’t a mistake because someone was sent to you, just not the person you should have been sent…”  
  
Harry managed to pull himself back to the present and then restrain himself from defending Hagrid. The professor had made it clear that he wasn’t taking the mickey out of Hagrid. He was just pointing out that Hagrid wasn’t trained to do what he’d been assigned and had therefore missed out on key points. “So what should be done then, sir?”  
  
Xander smirked playfully at the student. “I think we need to have a chat with my wife, and then probably the dear headmaster. We need to find out where the breakdown occurred and why.”  
  
Harry offered a nervous smile in response.  
  
**  
  
 _Deputy Headmistress’ Office  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 6th 1994_  
  
“Honey, I’m home.”  
  
Minerva sighed melodramatically. Sometimes she wondered why she’d married Alexander. Then she would remember and have to restrain herself from some most unseemly giggling. “Must you say that, Alexander?”  
  
The man in the patch led Harry into his wife’s office. “I must, Minerva. It’s very important for the stability of the universe that I keep saying things like that at least once a week.”  
  
The deputy headmistress pinched her nose in irritation. “I presume that you have a reason for bringing Mr. Potter here, other then to harass me in front of him?”  
  
Xander flashed her that heart-melting smile of his and then gestured for the boy to sit down in a chair. “I’d like to know who was in charge of providing Mr. Potter with his standard muggleborn package.”  
  
“And you need this information, why?”  
  
“Because I need to know who to disembowel for passing that duty on to Rubeus Hagrid.”  
  
Minerva’s head shot up. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Oh you heard me, love. Somehow or other Harry’s introduction to our world was completely fudged. He never got his muggleborn package, and all he seems to have rated was a nickel-tour from the Hogwarts groundskeeper.”  
  
Minerva began to page through the book and finally found what she was looking for. “Pomona was assigned originally, but I cancelled her participation once Albus said he would deal with it personally.”  
  
Xander’s face began to get stormy and Mr. Potter was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Finally Xander locked his frowning eye onto her own and spoke again. “I think I need to have a chat with dear Albus, love. Would you be so kind as to fill in the blanks for young Mr. Potter whilst I’m gone.” And with that Xander was gone from her office, leaving her alone with her charge.  
  
Minerva stood there silently for a long moment, wondering if she should warn her boss that her angry husband was heading his way. The sly voice of her husband seemed to whisper softly in her ear that Albus had made his bed and should have the dignity to lie in it. She nodded to herself and turned to lock eyes with Harry. “Now, Mr. Potter. Why don’t you try to sum up what Hagrid already told you and I’ll try to… fill in the blanks… as Alexander put it. Then I’ll give you the standard muggleborn package and things will be proper again.”  
  
Harry, still rather shocked by his encounter with Hurricane Xander just nodded agreeably at McGonagall’s suggestion.  
  
**  
  
 _Headmaster’s Office_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 6th 1994  
  
“Hello, Albus.”  
  
Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin 1st Class, etc… glanced up and sighed as he noted Professor Alexander Harris was sitting across from him. “I do wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me Alexander. It is not good for an old man such as myself.”  
  
Xander snorted eloquently at the assertion that Albus was anything but in perfect health. “They say the good die young, Albus.” He looked Dumbledore up and down as if evaluating him. “Ah well, too late.”  
  
Dumbledore arched a brow in faint irritation. “You are not exactly a spring chicken yourself, Professor Harris. Perhaps that should be your current concern.”  
  
Xander scoffed at the notion. “I’ve never pretended to be a good guy, Albus. That’s your bag. I’m just the exterminator someone called to step on the cockroach problem.”  
  
“I really do wish you would stop those senseless killings, Alexander. Even the Ministry recognises that vampires are sentient…”  
  
“Corpses, Albus. And considering that the Ministry also allows dementors to survive and even employs them, it might perhaps being doing your cause a disservice to your arguments to use those idiots as an example of what to do…”  
  
Albus sighed. “I trust you are here for a reason outside of irritating me, Alexander.”  
  
Xander’s face took on an unpleasant expression. “Do I want to know why you are trying to keep the Potter boy ignorant, Albus?”  
  
Dumbledore immediately locked eyes on Xander’s one, trying desperately to figure out what Harris knew. This was an uncomfortable subject. Albus quickly found himself frustrated by the numerous enchantments on the other man’s eye-patch. Alexander was very well warded against psionic attacks of any kind. Dumbledore tried to play dumb, not that it had ever worked before with this man. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Professor Harris. I have had little interaction with the boy…”  
  
“Hagrid was his first contact person, at your behest.”  
  
“I assure you that I…”  
  
“I’ve been to see my wife first, Albus. She said you wanted to handle it personally. Somehow it was foisted off on Hagrid. That smells and you know it.”  
  
“I’m a busy man, Alexander. There was an unexpected Wizengamot meeting that came up…”  
  
“Bullshit, Albus. You had Potter’s original guide cancelled. That was deliberate. Which tells me you needed to do that yourself, for whatever reason, or you set that all up to keep Potter ignorant. Considering that you didn’t bother to bring the kid around, I’m inclined to believe the second.”  
  
“Believe what you wish, Alexander. This is all just a simple misunderstanding. I trust the boy has been given everything you feel was withheld from him?”  
  
Xander gazed steadily at Dumbledore for a long moment. “Yes, Albus. I’ve got Minerva providing him with all that he missed out on.”  
  
Dumbledore spread his arms magnanimously. “All’s well that ends well, then?”  
  
Xander sneered at Albus, unimpressed with the posturing. Albus was a canny bugger, but he had nothing on Richard Wilkins in the false geniality department. “Indeed, Headmaster. Do be advised that I’ll be watching over Potter personally. I’d hate for another unfortunate accident to occur.” And with that the man exited the office, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Albus sighed dramatically. That was why he disliked Harris. The man was entirely too perceptive by half. He was not even slightly impressed by Albus’ mighty reputation and made up for his lack of pure power by being one of the most cunning individuals that Albus had ever known. Still, as of this moment Harris had very little. All Albus had to do was be careful and his well laid plans for the greater good would come to fruition. No trigger-happy American would wreck the plots that Albus had been working on for over a decade and a half. This was just a minor setback…  
  
~~  
  
And so the first clash of the titans is a very minor victory to Xander. ;)  
  
Jasper


	5. Unforgivable

I don't own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They belong to Joanne K. Rowling and Joss Whedon respectively.  
  
AN: My take on the Unforgivables lesson and a little surprise for everyone...  
  
~~  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 13th 1994_  
  
Harry Potter was walking on air. Since he had begun reading the student handbook on Saturday his life had dramatically improved. The handbook provided a wide variety of informational gems that had seemingly passed him by. It gave him a preview of what he should be expecting to cover over the course of a year, explaining well how Hermione and others managed to excel with substandard teachers in certain subjects (Lockhart, Binns and Snape being the most glaring in Harry’s opinion. It further clarified Snape’s insults on his first day of class. All three of the questions were covered in the standard student handbook’s introduction to potions. It did not make Snape’s outburst any less childish and out of line, but it did explain why Harry was expected to be able to answer those questions without memorising his textbooks in advance.  
  
Harry glanced up towards the professor’s desk and saw that Professor Harris was, once again, burying his head in the paper. This time it was the _Delphian Oracle_. Harry briefly wondered if his teacher had something against the _Daily Prophet_. He had yet to see the professor read or display an article from that paper. Harry shook his head mentally and discarded the thought as irrelevant. He then strode over and quietly placed his paper on the teacher’s desk before taking his own seat.  
  
As the other students streamed in they followed Harry’s example and just piled their essays on Harris’ desk, ending finally with Hermione’s particularly thick essay. Most of the teacher’s newspaper reading as a strange quirk of the man and simply ignored it, waiting for class. Hermione seemed to be taking the paper as some sort of a brush off and took to glaring at it periodically. Harry was more and more sure that he would never understand girls.  
  
The chimes indicating the start of class sounded and the professor’s paper closed and was put aside. The professor glanced about the room and seemed to shrug at the empty seat he glanced at. He did not take attendance this time, either. Harris offered a playful grin to the gathered students. “I’m thinking of awarding Professor Lupin the bronze star for the sheer courage it must have taken to try to educate students with two wasted years to their names. I’d even award the silver star if that wasn’t likely to give the poor man a rather nasty rash.”  
  
A couple of students who knew something about werewolves and American muggle military decorations were snickering whilst Hermione looked faintly aghast at what she took as an insult to several former faculty members. Most of the purebloods just looked confused.  
  
Xander sighed. “My humour is wasted on the young and British. Ah well. I’m sure you’ll all be glad to know that you passed your tests, meaning I got the distinct impression that you tried your hardest. I will be handing back your corrected tests at the end of class, so that you know what you got wrong and potentially need to work on. Still, all of you got Os on that one because this was more of an evaluation of your teachers rather then you.  
  
“Today’s class will be spent discussing the various unforgivables. This will include the names, incantations and just why they are classified as unforgivables in the first place. It will also discuss how one goes about defeating them. There will _not_ be demonstrations. I detest the foul things and refuse to cast them. Now, firstly I would like to ask various among you for the name of an unforgivable…”  
  
Harris glanced about, ignoring the various hands up and instead picking on someone without a hand up. “Weasley! Name an unforgivable.”  
  
Ron adopted a panicked look. He worked very hard to avoid being called upon in class. Still, he knew a fair bit about Lucius Malfoy’s escape from justice from some of his dad’s rants. “Th-the Imperius Curse.”  
  
Xander grinned at Ron. “The Imperius Curse. It’s rather fitting that you name that one. It is often listed first on the register, from the most benign to the most malign. I don’t agree with the ranking system, myself. I think of them as equally evil in different ways. The Imperius Curse, or the Slave Curse as it is also known, is a spell that takes away the victim’s ability to make choices. It forces the victim to do practically anything the caster desires. The incantation is _imperio_.  
  
“Like most of the curses in existence, your best bet is not to be hit by it. Dodge the curse or hide behind something solid and you are safe. Magical energy shields like the _protego_ are worthless against the unforgivables in general and so I recommend you do not waste your energy on them. The last form of defence is a matter of pure will. If you are struck with the Imperius then you can overcome it with an act of sheer will. This is not easy by any means. There are many ways to develop the will to resist the curse. Repeated exposure is one method, but not one I’d recommend. Mental trauma is one that screws up the curse, though again I don’t recommend it. Your best bets lie in the lesser disciplines of Occlumency. The lesser disciplines of this art protect your mind from external alteration. It helps well with fighting off the Imperius, the Confundus and the Memory Charm.”  
  
All members of the so-called Golden Trio felt their ears perk at that.  
  
“Anyway, I can likely set up lessons for those who are interested outside of class. I myself can’t teach you to occlumency but I have friends who are more then capable.”  
  
Nott, apparently having remembered his upbraiding from the week before, raised his hand.  
  
“Yes, Mr. Nott.”  
  
“I’ve heard you are immune to the Imperius Curse…”  
  
The implicit question was not lost on anyone with half a brain. Harris grinned sheepishly. “I would be one of the unfortunate ones who was subjected to certain mental traumas. Chief among them was a brief possession by a primal spirit. Believe me when I say that the process is overrated. There are far less disturbing methods to defeat the Imperius. Any other questions on this curse?”  
  
Hermione’s hand shot up.  
  
“Yes, Miss Granger?”  
  
“You said that the Imperius Curse can make you do _just about_ anything. That tends to suggest that there are things one cannot compel someone to do under the Imperius.”  
  
Xander nodded, looking pleased. “I was wondering if anyone would catch onto that. There are three things the Imperius Curse can’t force someone to do. The first is the most obvious. It can’t make you do the impossible; the improbable maybe, but not the impossible. That doesn’t mean they can’t make you try, but they can’t make you succeed”  
  
Most of the students nodded at that. It made sense.  
  
“The next thing the Imperius can’t do is make you feel any emotion other than the sensation of faint euphoria that is a side effect of the curse. It can make you act as if you are feeling these emotions, but it can’t make you feel them.  
  
“The last point ties into the second. A person under the Imperius cannot cast emotion-based spells because they lack the ability to feel the emotions necessary to cast the spells. This means that someone under the Imperius is able to cast a high-level bludgeoner, but cannot cast the unforgivables or something like the Patonus Charm.”  
  
Nott caught on to the implications immediately. The Professor was implying that Nott’s father had lied to get out of prison and had likely bought his judges since this knowledge cannot possibly have been exclusive to Harris. Unlike Malfoy, however, Nott was not stupid enough to sputter denials about his father in front of the class. And speaking of Malfoy… Malfoy had just slipped in the back of class and sat down.  
  
Xander glanced up at Malfoy, pretending shock. “Mr. Malfoy? Don’t you have something for me?”  
  
Malfoy grinned smugly. “I was speaking with Professor Snape, Professor. He held me back after class.”  
  
Xander nodded sagely. “You can explain it to me in detail at your detention to night for coming late to class without an adequate reason.”  
  
Draco’s jaw dropped. “I just said I was held back!”  
  
A shrug deflected Malfoy’s whinging effortlessly. “I do not have veritaserum on hand, Mr. Malfoy, nor am I allowed to use it on students. That means my only proof of why you are late resides in a note you have written for you by the teacher who held you up. If Professor Snape holds you up in future, I suggest to you that you ask him for a note. Your detention stands.”  
  
Draco growled softly under his breath, but Xander ignored the lad as being beneath his notice.  
  
“Alright, we have cover the Imperius Curse. Does anyone have another one for me?” Harris allowed his eyes to rove the sea of hands and this time picked someone whose hand was up. He thrived on being unpredictable. “Bulstrode!”  
  
Millicent dropped her hand. “The Cruciatius Curse.”  
  
Xander grinned at the Slytherin. “Keeping our curses in order, are we? Yes, the Cruciatus is second on the list, though I do consider it as bad, if not worse, then its two compatriots. The Cruciatus Curse or Torture Curse is a brutal one that lights up every nerve ending on your body with excruciating pain. It is a vile thing and overexposure to it can lead to the victim entering a permanent coma. There is currently no known cure for overexposure, but where there is life there is hope… The incantation for this curse is _crucio_. Do not get caught up in the hype that said this started out as a medical curse. The word _crucio_ takes its pronunciation from the word excruciating. It was meant to be exactly what it is, an instrument of pain.  
  
“Defeating this curse is simple. Get out of its way. A heavy enough object will block it and your absence from its path will make it a wasted gesture. Unfortunately there is no real way to moderate its effects when it hits you except for potions taken after the fact. Some have speculated that someone who has suffered enough through life can work through the pain and continue to fight. This is bull. I have experienced much pain in my life and I assure you, I was rendered just as helpless by _crucio_ as others are. My life was saved because a certain brilliant transfiguration mistress turned my opponent into a seal whilst he was in the thrall of torturing me.  
  
“That is a significant weakness of the Torture Curse, so mark it well. A person who is using it tends to be very focused on the chance at hand. If a friend of yours is under the curse and you are in range, your chance to ambush your opponent is now.”  
  
The professor smirked faintly before continuing. “The last curse, if you please?” Xander glanced around and went back to picking someone whose hand wasn’t up. “Mr. Longbottom. Care to give us the last unforgivable?”  
  
Neville started in surprise. He had been rather wrapped up in thinking about the Cruciatus when Xander had jolted him. “Err… The Killing Curse.”  
  
Xander nodded sagely. “Exactly right, Mr. Longbottom. The Killing Curse, often considered the worst of the worst. This curse literally tears the victims soul from his or her body and sends it to the afterlife. There are also rumours that it damages the soul of the caster too, though these are unconfirmed at this time. The incantation is _avada kedavra_ and the spell itself manifests as a distinctive emerald green light.  
  
“If you see a spell like that then get the heck out of its path. This curse is not survivable. Survival of the killing curse has reputedly happened just the once and no one knows what mix of circumstances were necessary to make that happen. Don’t be there or be behind something nice and solid. Do not hope for a miracle unless it is your only choice, ‘cause the chances are you won’t get that miracle.”  
  
Harry smiled. Even when the conversation bordered on him, the teacher’s eyes kept moving, barely stopping on him for a moment. It was rather enjoyable to be treated as just another student.  
  
Harris merely continued his lecture, having apparently not noticed Harry’s gratitude. “Now then, why are these spells called the unforgivables?”  
  
Hermione’s hand shot up and she was selected for once. “Because they are unforgivable, sir!”  
  
Xander blinked. “No, Miss Granger. A repetition of the name does not explain why a group of spells has that name. Anyone else?”  
  
Harry couldn’t help but be mildly amused by the disgruntled look on Hermione’s face.  
  
“Potter!”  
  
Harry looked up. “Well…” Harry strained to come up with something. “The curses all seem to be developed to do terrible things like kill, torture and enslave. So maybe the nature of what they do is what makes them unforgivable.”  
  
Xander offered a slight smile before shooting his idea down. “An intriguing idea, Mr. Potter, but incorrect. There are curses which are just as deadly and infinitely more painful then the killing curse out there. For example, the Entrail-Expelling Curse and the Decapitation Curse are every bit as final and are much more disgusting. Each of them are classified as dark magic but they are not unforgivable. Why?”  
  
Xander turned about, looking for another hand and found none. He nodded, presumably having expected this. “Let’s try this then, why can’t the unforgivables be successfully cast under the Imperius Curse?”  
  
Hermione’s hand shot up and he let her take it again. “The unforgivables all possess an emotional component which impossible to convey whilst under the influence of the Imperius Cure, which means that…”  
  
“That will do, Ms. Granger. Let’s let someone else have a chance, shall we?”  
  
Hermione’s glare was becoming more disgruntled by the moment.  
  
Harris glanced about. “Anyone else care to speculate why I brought up the emotional component of the unforgivables?”  
  
A dark-skinned boy named Zabini raised his hand slightly. “Am I to understand that other dark curses, like the Entrail-Expelling Curse, do not require the aforementioned emotional component that the unforgivables do?”  
  
Xander simply nodded and let Zabini work it out on his own.  
  
“Then I would suggest that the emotional components of the unforgivable are what is actually considered unforgivable in this matter. I don’t know what the component is, so I can’t really speculate further.”  
  
Xander smiled broadly. “Bravo, Mr. Zabini. That’s it exactly. All three of the unforgivables are cast using an overwhelming and all-encompassing desire. The desire to murder, to torture or to dominate another. To quote Bellatrix Lestrange herself, you have to mean it! You have to want, with every fiber of your being, to bring about the consequences of that curse. Only someone with a truly dark mind can manage to cast any of them successfully and so they are unforgivable.”  
  
A hand popped up.  
  
Xander spun about and pointed. “Yes, Mr. Finnigan?”  
  
“Is it true that the unforgivables are inherently addictive.”  
  
Xander frowned slightly. “Not as such. People become addicted to the unforgivables like anything else. They have too much of it. You cast the curses too much and you may very well get addicted to the power you feel you have over people. It is not inherent in the curses, but it is fairly common given how screwed up you have to be to really use them to their full effect.  
  
Malfoy was practically turning blue with trying to keep in his outrage at the implications being subtly thrown about concerning his father in the classroom, but Lucius had told his son to keep his head down and mouth shut in Alexander Harris’ classroom.  
  
Xander glanced about the class. “Any other questions?” Surprisingly there were none. Most of the class was convinced that Hermione was too angry at Harris to ask any questions at the moment. “Okay then. Class dismissed. Those who wish to be trained in defeating the Imperius Curse should sign the sheet of paper that is next to the door. Mr. Longbottom, stay after please.”  
  
After the class had drained out of the room, Neville stepped forward rather hesitantly.  
  
Xander raised his hands as if to declare himself unarmed. “Peace, Mr. Longbottom. You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”  
  
Neville’s back went up and he looked faintly insulted. “You didn’t ask Harry about…”  
  
“What happened to Harry, happened when he was a toddler. He has long since accepted his parents are gone. What happened to you is still happening to you and will continue to happen until your parents either die or are cured.”  
  
Neville deflated at that. “You know, then?”  
  
Xander nodded. “Frank and Alice were dear friends of mine, Neville. I was their secret keeper when they went into hiding. All I regret from that experience is that they came out of hiding when they did.”  
  
Neville nodded wordlessly.  
  
Xander sat beside his student. “You know that Alice would be so proud of you…”  
  
Neville’s head shot up. “Not dad?”  
  
The faintest hint of darkness hit Xander’s face and then disappeared. He knew full well that Augusta wanted Frank back through Neville, but it was impossible to get through to Augusta. And wizarding child services didn’t move forward unless there was physical abuse going on. Mental and emotional abuse didn’t exist in the magical world in an official capacity. “Frank too, Neville. I said Alice in particular because herbology was her bread and butter. That woman had a green thumb like no other and you seem to be following her example.”  
  
Neville nodded sullenly.  
  
Xander put his hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Never let Augusta bring you down by comparing you to Frank, Neville. It’s not fair. Especially when she uses some idealised version of Frank who could do no wrong. If you try to live up to her image of Frank Longbottom, you will drive yourself mad. Because Augusta will never be satisfied. Always remember that you are the product of two parents, both of whom would be proud to claim you if they woke up tomorrow.”  
  
Xander held Neville close as the lad sobbed out his grief. He strongly suspected that this was the first opportunity Neville had ever had to mourn his parents. “Let it out, Neville. Don’t hold back. Just let it out. Nothing you say leaves this room.” And so Xander sat and listened as the lad spoke about his insecurities, his sadness and his many perceived faults…  
  
Xander just let Neville speak, never judging him. What more could one ask from one’s godfather?  
  
~~  
  
AN1: Yes, Neville is Xander's godson. No, he is not aware of it yet.  
AN2: Xander's conduct in hugging his godson would be considered rather dicey for a teacher in a muggle school, but given what Snape gets away with I don't think it would be considered a big deal here. What Xander did was utterly benign, after all. It was just comforting a family member.  
AN3: Why Neville hasn't met Xander before? It'll be explained later, by Xander...  
  
Enjoy all  
  
Jasper


	6. Staff Meetings and Messenger Elves

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. The belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  
  
 _Staff Room  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 16th 1994_  
  
Albus Dumbledore glanced regally down from his position at the head of the table as he watched his teachers bickering and maneuvering about him. They ranged from the massive Professor Hagrid to the tiny Professor Flitwick.  
  
Minerva and Severus were, one again, at each other’s throats over the way points were being taken or given, with Pomona trying, rather unsuccessfully, to mediate the dispute. Sybill was casting huffy glances at anyone for pulling her down from her tower for something so mundane, especially she already _knew_ what the meeting’s outcome was. The only two calm points in the room were Flitwick and Harris who were calmly chatting about the differences between competition duelling and combat duelling.  
  
Albus rubbed his temples in mild exasperation. “If we could have a little quiet in here, please? We have much to discuss, I’m sure you’ll agree.” The unruly noise quieted down at Albus’ words and the various teachers looked up at Albus. “I believe that we will start by seniority. Minerva, you have the floor.”  
  
McGonagall nodded her agreement and stood. “The first thing I’d like to address is the quidditch cancellation, Albus. I realise the Tournament preparations are somewhat consuming, but I don’t believe Rolanda has been asked to help with it, anyway.”  
  
Albus’ brow twitched faintly in irritation. McGonagall had never questioned him before she went abroad and fell in love with that thrice-damned Harris. Now it happened more and more. “Your point, Minerva?”  
  
Professor McGonagall shrugged. “I should think it’s obvious, Albus. I think that we could easily run the Quidditch season concurrently with the tournament. It shouldn’t be much extra bother since Rolanda will still have the time available. Goodness knows the students run their own practices anyway. All we are needed for is to sign off on the practice time which, again, Rolanda could take on quite easily.”  
  
Speaking out of turn, Rolanda chimed in. “I agree, Albus. My work with teaching the first years to fly and for teaching remedial or advanced flying for those that wish it does not take up much of my time. I’d love the opportunity to be able to do something substantial, this year.”  
  
Albus opened his mouth to cut off this conversation, but McGonagall was apparently unfinished. “I would further add that by cutting off this years Quidditch season, you are denying my sixth year Quidditch players the chance to further hone their skills so that they can be ready to impress the Quidditch scouts in their final year. Pomona is in the same boat as I am. And Filius and Severus are even worse off. They have seventh years who will never have the chance to even be scouted if the season is not reinstated.”  
  
Dumbledore shut his mouth firmly and pondered the situation he was in. Severus and Filius, in particular, appeared to be very supportive of the measure. That in itself was rare, to see his various heads of house united in anything. It really didn’t cost him anything to give in and it might cost him dearly to deny them. He sighed. “I would be willing to reinstate this year’s Quidditch season if we could add one addendum. The Tri-Wizard Champions may not participate in this year’s Quidditch season. This will be to allow them to devote their full time to one or the other.”  
  
The heads of house nodded in tandem and Madam Hooch offered a broad grin.  
  
“Why don’t you offer to allow Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to participate?” Everybody sat up in shock as Alexander Harris’ smooth voice cut through the room.  
  
Albus glared at Xander, causing the younger man to smirk faintly. “You know that they will just be bringing along their potential champions, Mr. Harris. They will not have their Quidditch teams on hand.”  
  
Xander shrugged unconcernedly. “True, but they will have enough non-champions along to field a team. Their lack of regular players will be offset some by their relative size. And even if they can’t manage to field a decent team to participate with, it will still be a nice gesture. Very much in the spirit of international cooperation.”  
  
Dumbledore flinched violently as Xander threw the words Albus had spoken to get the Tournament reinstated back into his face. “Yes, I suppose it would be a nice gesture on our parts, even if Olympe and Igor don’t accept.” Albus looked about and was satisfied that Quidditch had been put to bed for the moment. “Was there anything else you wished to address, Minerva, before we turn the floor over to Filius?”  
  
Minerva chewed her lip for a moment and decided not to bring up Severus’ usual antics just yet. She had a feeling Severus was going to get his this meeting, no matter what. “Nothing else, at this time.”  
  
Albus nodded and gestured for Flitwick to take the floor. “Filius?” Professors Flitwick and Sprout both took their turns with little fanfare and nothing too serious coming up. Albus was just beginning to relax when he called Professor Snape to the floor. “Severus?”  
  
Snape took the floor looking like a wrathful bat. “Explain to me just how you justified giving Mr. Malfoy a detention, Mr. Harris.”  
  
The one-eyed man glanced at Dumbledore expectantly for a moment, before turning back to Snape. “Professor Harris.”  
  
Snape’s face was a priceless picture of confusion. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
Xander smirked. “Apology accepted, Professor Snape. As for Mr. Malfoy, I was given to understand that as his teacher it was my prerogative to assign the young man a detention for coming to class late without an adequate reason.”  
  
“I am his Head of House! His punishment is mine to decide.”  
  
“Really?” Xander affected a look of surprise. “And do you allow Minerva to discipline her lions for what occurs in your own classroom, Professor? Of course not. You assign punishments yourself, just as I did.”  
  
“Draco was with me at the time. That is why he was late.”  
  
“If he was with you, Professor, then why did he not have a note stating the fact?”  
  
Severus gritted his teeth. “He forgot to ask for it.”  
  
Xander shrugged. “Then he will remember to ask for one next time. A student who is late twice in a row with no note either time is subject to a detention, in my book. Also, Professor, could you not hold Draco back so late? He missed a full fifteen minutes of my class on the unforgivables. We wouldn’t want the lad to fail my class, would we?”  
  
Snape speared Xander with a glare that was completely ineffective. “I will keep that in mind in the future.”  
  
Xander smiled sweetly. “See that you do, Professor Snape.”  
  
Minerva put a hand to her mouth to repress her laughter.  
  
**  
  
 _Gryffindor Tower  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 16th 1994_  
  
Hermione Granger was slowly paging through _Hogwarts: A History_ , for the umpteenth time, trying to glean some last kernel of knowledge she may have missed concerning the house elves. It still defied her understanding how Hogwarts could have a large population of slave labourers and not even have simple courtesy to write it down.  
  
 _*Crack*_ Many of the students in Gryffindor Tower, including Hermione, looked up at the distinctive noise. An elf, wearing a beautifully tailored uniform with a curious patch on it had made its sudden appearance. Unlike most elves, this one did not seem to be the least bit disturbed by the fact that it had been seen or heard. “I is being needing the Gryffindor fourth years, please.”  
  
Hermione stood and approached the elf as Alicia Spinnet, a sixth year Gryffindor prefect, went to fetch the remaining fourth years that were in the tower. Hermione stopped in front of the elf, eying it curiously. “I’m Hermione Granger… and you are?”  
  
“I is Ripper, Miss.”  
  
Hermione’s eyebrow rose in curiosity. “How did you come by that name?”  
  
“Master Harris gave it to me, Miss. He said that I is reminding him of the G-Man.” The elf’s tone was almost conspiratorial.  
  
Hermione barely held in a violent outburst at the idea that Professor Harris enslaved an elf. It was just one more thing she disliked about the man. “I see. Did you have a message for me?”  
  
The elf shrugged off the satchel he was wearing and dug out a familiar roll of parchment. “Master Harris is being finished with marking your essays, Miss. He asked me to deliver them since he is being busy with the staff meeting.”  
  
Hermione accepted her essay and thanked the elf, mildly surprised that he didn’t immediately make a great show of how wonderful Hermione was for showing him such kindness.  
  
Hermione ignored Harry, Seamus and Lavender as they reclaimed their essays, instead taking the time to carefully unroll her own. What she saw caused her jaw to drop. Exceeds Expectations?! Where was her Outstanding? Even Professor Snape, belittle as he might, had never given her less than an Outstanding. And now this… this… poor excuse for a teacher thought he was going to get away with marking her essay as less then perfect. She huffed in irritation. She just knew it was because she had taken the angle of claiming Harris was wrong to kill Greyback. No matter. She’d dispute it at her next class. This wouldn’t stand, not even if she had to argue her way up to the Board of Governors.  
  
**  
  
 _Staff Room_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 16th 1994  
  
“Professor Harris?”  
  
Xander glanced up and realised he had been given the floor. “Ah yes. Well, you’ll be happy to know that Professor Lupin did an excellent job in repairing the damage done in recent years to this school’s defence curriculum. The damage is by no means completely fixed, especially in the upper years, but I’m hopeful that I can have everyone to where they should be by the end of this year.”  
  
“Are you quite sure that the material you are presenting is age appropriate, Alexander?” The soft, matronly voice of Pomona Sprout sounded. “I understand you have been covering the unforgivables far lower than is generally accepted?”  
  
Xander smiled and nodded at his colleague. “That would normally be true, Pomona, but with the Death Eaters having made an appearance at the Quidditch World Cup, I thought it would be appropriate to warn the students about what those spells can do and to explain how best to defend against them. Really the only significant trauma likely to occur was if I were to demonstrate the curses, and you know full well that I’d never do that.”  
  
Pomona nodded at that, but Severus sneered and cut in quickly. “Don’t have the stomach to cast them, eh Harris?”  
  
Xander offered Snape a bored expression. “I fear that I don’t have your talent for the dark arts, Severus. Alas, not all of us have had your post-secondary education.” Cutting Snape off before he could retort, Xander continued, “Besides, I find no shame in admitting that the idea of casting any one of those spells turns my stomach.  
  
“Now then, where was I? Ah yes, my classes. I believe whatever I have to say has already been brought up by others or covered just now. Was there anything you wanted to ask of me, Albus?”  
  
Albus stared at his latest defence professor for a long moment, wishing for the umpteenth time that he could get a read on what Harris thought. Unfortunately for him, Harris’ enchantments were too thorough to begin to pierce. “I would like to know why you give and take so few points in your classroom, Alexander. One tends to see a great deal more activity in the points system from the teachers.”  
  
Xander shrugged complacently. “Frankly I dislike the points system. It makes little sense to me to award of penalise the entire house for the actions of the individual. I only give points for what I consider to be a great piece of thinking and I only remove points for a minor infraction of rules. Correct answers are noted and counted towards a student’s final grade, but I see no reason to single them out unless the deduction was rather exemplary. As for repeated or severe offences, I prefer to assign a detention for those things.”  
  
Snape huffed. “Draco’s tardiness cannot possibly be considered severe…”  
  
“No, Severus, it wasn’t. However, it was repeated. He was late for his first class as well. I do hope you’ll talk to that lad about his tardiness or he may well be joining me for more such detentions.”  
  
Snape just ground his teeth in impotent rage.  
  
~~  
  
And another chappie bites the dust...  
  
Jasper


	7. Reckoning

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 20th 1994_  
  
Xander leaned back in his chair, watching his classroom fill up slowly. As the chime for the beginning of class began, Draco slipped in. Xander briefly considered declaring the lad late, but discarded the thought as petty. The boy was close enough that he didn’t cause any major disruption or miss any material and so there was really nothing to complain about. Xander nodded to himself. To quote the Beetles, ‘Let it be…’  
  
Xander dropped his morning paper onto his desk and hopped to his feet, allowing his eye to roam the class before he began to speak. “I trust that all of you have received your essays on Greyback from Ripper?”  
  
Lots of nods and a few smiles showed that the class had indeed received their essays. A violent flinch from Draco suggested that the boy had received more then that. Xander suppressed a grin. Ripper was aptly named.  
  
Xander smiled. “Let’s do a quick review of the material there was on Greyback, then, shall we? No opinions, just the facts. Crabbe, why don’t you start?”  
  
Vincent jolted in faint shock. “Start what, Professor?”  
  
Xander breathed deep and reached for patience. He had been just as bad at times, and he’d grown into a decent man if he did say so himself. “Offer up some information on Greyback from your research, Mr. Crabbe. I already know you’ve read the material from your essay, now share it with the rest of the class…”  
  
Vincent nodded slowly and then seemed to think a moment. “Well, Greyback was a werewolf, of course, and was turned just after the fall of Grindelwald…” Crabbe stopped, obviously expecting that such basic information was not wanted.  
  
Xander merely smiled. “True enough, Mr. Crabbe. Keep going. You’re doing fine so far.”  
  
The gentle encouragement seemed to make Vincent sit up a little straighter and he began to speak a little more confidently. “Greyback is rumoured to be one of the few werewolves to have been turned by choice, but my research shows just the opposite. He was bitten against his will. He embraced being a werewolf quite fiercely after he was bitten, though…”  
  
Xander nodded. “Excellent work, Mr. Crabbe. Yes, Fenrir was bitten against his will. This is very common amongst the weres. You rarely see a regular human who actually seeks out the curse. Goyle, you take over.”  
  
Gregory shrugged and began his own recitation. “Greyback is responsible for turning over two hundred weres, all of them deliberately. He single-handedly created well over half of the werewolf population of Britain and sired several more weres in Europe…”  
  
Xander smiled and nodded. “Excellent. Longbottom!”  
  
Neville’s head snapped up and then he too began to speak. “More than half of those that Greyback bit were children, including our former Professor Lupin. Greyback is said to have chosen children because he wanted to mold their growth into weres that espoused his philosophies. It is well known that Greyback wanted to form a werewolf nation…”  
  
“Brown!”  
  
Lavender nodded and spoke further. “Greyback was slain in a one-on-one death match on November 5th 1977, by Alexander Harris. Patroclus Nott and Minerva McGonagall stood witness to the battle. It was ended when Harris beheaded his opponent with a silver-etched scimitar.”  
  
Xander’s grin was faintly feral. “I think that will do for the bare facts. Thank you for your help Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Brown. Now then, is there anybody who needs clarification on anything concerning Greyback? I know all of you managed to secure a passing grade, but if anyone feels the need for some clarification on some point, you are welcome to ask…”  
  
Harry Potter’s hand shot up. “Is it true that you willingly faced Greyback without a wand? The histories don’t seem to agree on that point.”  
  
Xander smiled faintly. “No, it is not true that I willingly faced Greyback without a wand. In fact, I had my wand at the beginning of the match. Greyback managed to catch my wand in his teeth during our battle. I was lucky to get my fingers out of the way without being bitten. Greyback’s teeth snapped my wand. Luckily, I don’t believe in carrying just the one weapon into battle.”  
  
Xander grimly locked eyes with every student in the room. “Let that be a lesson you all take with you. Honour is a fine thing, but don’t let it get you killed. Concessions and rules are for sporting events, not combat. In combat you make sure to have every weapon possible at your disposal. Never give up any advantage unless you have no other choice.”  
  
Xander allowed his grim countenance to fade back into a friendly smile again. “Now then, if anyone has any questions on how I marked your assignments, I’d like to ask that you wait until the end of class and stay after. Any other questions?”  
  
Hermione shuddered with a faint hint of frustration but kept her peace.  
  
Xander nodded at the lack of hands. “Excellent. On to the lesson then. Today we will be covering the Reductor Curse in detail. This spell is one of the more useful and commonly-used spells in a combat situation. The incantation is _reducto_. The spell is one of the many available explosive curses. It is fairly powerful against solid objects, though its full effect depends on the power of the caster. Important to note is that the Reductor is not very useful against a flesh and blood target. The nature of a person’s body is not solid enough to get a proper hit with the Reductor. This means that while it can knock a person around pretty good, it will not cause your opponent penetrating wounds when used directly…”  
  
**  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 20th 1994_  
  
Xander Harris leaned against his desk, back to the classroom, as he waited for it to empty out. He could feel her staring holes into his back, but he wasn’t about to acknowledge her until they were alone. She might be an arrogant little thing, but that was no reason to publicly humiliate her. Goodness knew that his friends had been equally arrogant at times. Goodness knew that even he had been arrogant at times. Perhaps a little less so, but then he hadn’t had all of their fancy powers to back his arrogance with. Or at least he hadn’t known he did.  
  
As Harry slipped out of the room, Xander realised it was down to the two of them. Him and Granger. He quirked a smile that his student couldn’t see. “Should I send for Minerva to mediate our quarrel, Ms. Granger?”  
  
Hermione frowned at the informal way in which Xander had spoken of her head of house, but decided to let it pass for once. “What makes you think we are going to quarrel, Professor?”  
  
A deep and hearty laugh echoed throughout the room. “My dear, you are not even a novice at concealing your emotions. I could practically smell your rage as you entered my classroom. You’ve been at a slow burn since practically the moment when we first met. I know that you’re angry with me. I suspect its at least partially due to your grade on the Greyback essay. Beyond that, I can’t imagine why you dislike me so much, though I must say that I am curious to hear you speak on the subject…”  
  
Hermione hesitated for a long moment. She absolutely hated to question authority. This was a professor. The professors were always right. But he had under-graded her. “You gave me and Exceeds Expectations on my essay…”  
  
Xander shrugged theatrically. “I was feeling generous.”  
  
Hot rage poured through her at that statement. “How dare you! I worked very hard on that essay. It covered everything you could possibly have wanted on Greyback. It was because I defended him, wasn’t it. You think of Greyback as a monster and you won’t hear any opinion to the contrary. Well don’t you dare think this is over. I’ll take it to the Board of Governors and…”  
  
A cold laugh from Xander shattered Hermione’s planned tirade. “You’ll take it to the Board of Governors? I’d really pay to see those bigots get asked to regrade an essay defending a werewolf, especially one with Greyback’s history. No, no, little Miss Granger, I don’t think they will regrade you. Dumbledore might. Goodness knows the old man doesn’t believe in killing anyone, no matter how much they might have earned it.”  
  
“Then maybe I’ll just take my essay to him, then?”  
  
Xander shrugged. “You might try. But aren’t you the least bit curious to know why I graded you the way I did. I’ll give you a little hint. It wasn’t bigotry. I’ll have you know that I marked five essays as Outstanding that defended Greyback. Oh, I think they were full of crap, personally, but their essays were well-written. Your grad had nothing to do with your argument.”  
  
Half of Hermione wanted to walk out and find Dumbledore to regrade her paper immediately, but Xander had played her curiosity by admitting he’d graded other people who had defended Greyback higher than her. “Why then?”  
  
Xander smiled. “All you had to do was ask, Ms. Granger. Tell me, what were my instructions concerning the essay?”  
  
“You wanted us to write an essay on Fenrir Greyback and whether you were justified in ending him…”  
  
“And the length…?”  
  
“Three to four feet. But I always write a bit longer then asked for. Nobody’s ever complained!”  
  
Xander offered a grim smile. “Ms. Granger, jaywalking is a fine-able offence.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Just because you never got punished for something, doesn’t mean someone isn’t allowed to punish you for it.”  
  
“Still, I was just a bit over…”  
  
Xander snorted in faint exasperation. “Some of the Ravenclaws were a bit over, Ms. Granger. One by as much as six inches of parchment. For them I commented briefly in their essays that a maximum is a maximum and told them it was a warning not to overdo things.”  
  
“Then why did I get marked down!?”  
  
“Two reasons, Ms. Granger. The first is that three extra feet of parchment is not a little over. The purpose of setting a maximum length to your essays was to see if my students could choose between what is necessary and what is unnecessary information, distilling the facts for me.”  
  
“And the other reason?”  
  
“Because your grossly over-long essay was not the only thing I marked you down for.”  
  
Hermione fought to avoid grinding her teeth. “What else, then?”  
  
Xander thought about suggesting she call him Professor, but decided to save discipline for later. Right now was for drilling into that stubborn head of his and maybe poking a few holes in that over-inflated ego. “The second problem was the gross amount of gratuitous data that you bombarded me with. Some of it was quite useless in proving your point.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Tell me, Ms. Granger, what exactly does Fenrir Greyback’s date of birth and his childhood address have to do with proving whether killing Greyback was moral or not? I suppose if Greyback had been a minor when I killed him, which he most certainly was not, then his date of birth might have been pertinent. As for his childhood address, I can’t think of any circumstance that would have made that necessary, let alone useful to your essay.”  
  
Hermione flushed deeply at those points, her agile mind trying desperately to defend her position, but she could tell she was losing the high ground and she disliked it. “Anything else.”  
  
Xander nodded. “You never even looked at the opposing argument.”  
  
“The essay was to discuss the morality of killing Greyback. It was immoral. What in Merlin’s name does the opposing argument have to do with anything.”  
  
Xander sighed and wondered who had taught this girl essay-writing. “When arguing a point, it is always necessary to look at the opposing argument.”  
  
“Even when the opposing side is clearly wrong.”  
  
“Yes. If anything, when the opposing side is clearly wrong that gives you an advantage. In an essay format like this, exploring the opposing argument gives you opportunities to exploit in pointing out why the opposing argument is incorrect. The problem you have, Ms. Granger, is that you are too damn smart for your own good.”  
  
Hermione’s back was up. “What is that supposed to mean?”  
  
Xander sighed and sat on his desk. “Sit down, Ms. Granger. I need to tell you a story.”  
  
Hermione speared Xander with a fierce glare, but eventually sat down as indicated.  
  
Xander offered a somewhat bittersweet smile. “My best friend growing up was a lot like you, Ms. Granger. She was the smart one, the one that everybody picked on for being a know-it-all. Luckily for her, she came upon a guy that shared crayons with her in kindergarten and so she wasn’t quite so alone as I suspect you were growing up.  
  
“My Willow was bright as a penny in the well water. Unfortunately, she was too bright. When we were seventeen, she discovered she was a witch. Not a witch like you, Hermione, but a channeler of extraordinary power. As with all other things in life, she dove right in and began to learn things at her usual, rapid pace.  
  
“We didn’t see the harm. We didn’t see what learning magic she wasn’t ready for was doing to her. She learned too much, too fast and she just didn’t have the wisdom to understand that sometimes its not about if you _can_ do something, but if you _should_.  
  
“And in her arrogance she cast one of the darkest spells known to exist. She did this in an effort to help a friend, but she never really considered that some spells are better left uncast. That was the beginning of a long and painful road for her.  
  
“Four years later we stood together before an ancient temple. My Willow was hopelessly addicted to her magic and was in a towering rage over the recent death of her lover. She’d decided to end the world that day. Now somehow I managed to get through to the little girl I once shared my yellow crayon with. I talked her down and told her that I loved her and that if she wanted to destroy the world, she’d have to start with me.  
  
“She couldn’t kill me. That was all. That’s what saved her.” Xander pulled out a loaded pistol and caressed it with his hand. “That’s what kept me from having to kill my best friend since forever.”  
  
Hermione sat on the desk across from Xander, faintly horrified at the story. “What’s your point?”  
  
Xander locked his eye to hers. “There is a difference between absorbing information and learning. It took damn near destroying the planet to get that through to Willow. I’m hoping that Harry won’t have to do that for you, some day. Hermione, you are a very intelligent girl. That said, you’ve got to learn to question yourself a bit. You are not always right. And if you continue to think of yourself as infallible then one day your friends will be fighting a dark witch and you will look up… and it will be you.”  
  
**  
  
 _Harris / McGonagall Quarters_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 20th 1994  
  
Minerva accepted a cup of tea from Ripper, taking a long sip before she turned to her husband. “You talked to her?”  
  
Xander nodded. “I did.”  
  
Minerva frowned slightly at the lack of information. “Do you think you got through to her?”  
  
Xander offered a placid smile. “Yes, Min, I believe I did. You were right about her. She definitely needed a wake up call.”  
  
Minerva nodded in agreement. “I didn’t want to see it, Alexander. I should have seen it long ago. She started showing signs of working farther ahead than is healthy in her second year. Honestly, I could kill Gilderoy for giving her a pass to the restricted section without even looking at what she wanted.”  
  
Xander snorted. “That man would have signed anything that sat still long enough. The kindest thing he ever did for the human race was to make sure his various lovers used the birth control potion. No need to contaminate the various bloodlines any further…”  
  
Minerva quirked a faint smile before frowning again. It was last year that I really saw what was happening. Her decision to take all five electives was preposterous. I would certainly have never given her a time turner if Albus hadn’t already approved it.”  
  
“You think Albus had something else going on?”  
  
“Certainly. There was no reason to have Ms. Granger taking all five electives. No other student has been allowed, why would she?”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You are certain you got through to her, though?”  
  
Xander chuckled softly. “I’m as sure as I can be, Min. Now stop beating yourself up over it. You caught on before Hermione could walk down that path. Be proud of that.”  
  
“All right, all right. I’ll stop fretting. Will that make you happy, Alexander.”  
  
“Ecstatic,” Xander drawled. He placed a soft kiss onto Minerva’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now come to bed. Things will look better in the morning.”  
  
**  
  
And another one bites the dust...


	8. Occlumency

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
  
  
~~  
  
 _Great Hall  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 29th 1994_  
  
The denizens of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were eating dinner when the large doors parted to reveal a tall man of African descent and a sprightly-looking girl with long, black hair and a smiling face. The tall man looked around the hall calmly before settling his gaze on Xander and walking towards the head table, the sprightly girl at his heels.  
  
Dumbledore sighed softly at the sight of the auror and trainee. He worked so very hard to keep the aurors out of Hogwarts and Harris just goes and invites them over without so much as a by your leave. The old man pursed his lips. He’d chew Harris out later, in private. No need to cause a scene.  
  
Xander rose from his chair clasping hands with his old friend. “Hey there, Rex. How’s it going up at paperwork central?”  
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt winced at both Xander’s nickname for him, a play on his first name, and the reference to the disgusting amount of paperwork that went with being an auror. Dark hunters like Harris had it much easier since they worked freelance. “As well as can be expected, Xand. I believe you already know my current apprentice, Nymphadora?”  
  
“It’s Black!” The irate-looking young woman’s hair had shifted to red in response to her irritation at being addressed by her first name.  
  
“Nymph…”  
  
Nymphadora Black blushed beet red in response to Xander’s reproving tone. “Sorry, Grandpa. Sorry, Kingsley.”  
  
Kingsley nodded in satisfaction at his apprentice’s contrite apology. “I don’t suppose we could join you for dinner. We haven’t eaten since lunch.”  
  
Xander nodded and snapped, an action that caused Ripper to pop in and set a couple of places next to Xander, who was seated on the end.  
  
Dumbledore’s face developed a slight tic. More actions being taken without even asking his permission. This just would not do.  
  
Xander took no notice of Dumbledore’s ever-increasing irritation, instead turning to speak to Nymphadora. “So how is your mother doing, Nymph? I haven’t heard from her since I left the country to deal with that rumoured vampire nest in Bulgaria.”  
  
Black grinned broadly and began animatedly speaking of her mother Andromeda’s constant political warfare to get recognised as Lady Black, rather than merely the regent.   
  
With Lady Lucretia Black having died in December of 1992, the family title should have fallen to Andromeda as the next person in line who was neither dead nor convicted of any criminal offence. There was only one problem… Sirius Black had not been given a trial. The Family Black had always believed that Sirius’ trial had been held in secret and so they had been caught completely off guard when the goblins had informed Andromeda that Sirius Black was the Lord of their house until such time as he died or was actually convicted of a crime. Andromeda had been attempting to get her cousin a trial, so that the matter could be settled, when Sirius had escaped Azkaban and complicated everything even further.  
  
“Have you been to see Dad at all, lately?”  
  
Xander felt strain behind his eyes as he sought out Minerva with his gaze from where she sat next to the headmaster. He sighed softly. “I haven’t had a chance, Nymph. Your grandmother snagged me as soon as I entered the country. I’ll see him at Christmas, with any luck.”  
  
Nymphadora nodded solemnly. She knew the topic of her father, Jesse Rupert Black, was a painful one for her grandfather. Xander blamed himself for Jesse getting involved in the war against Voldemort. He blamed himself even more for not being there when Jesse had been struck down by that still-unknown dark curse. Jesse was now a resident of the St. Mungo’s Long Term Care Ward.  
  
Xander allowed a faint smile to cross his face. “I’ll never forget the expression on your grandmother’s face when Jesse told her that he was taking Andromeda’s name rather than the other way around. I swear to Merlin, Morgana and Maeve that she almost blew a gasket that day.”  
  
Nymphadora giggled at the image. Her prim and proper, very old-fashioned grandmother had softened a great deal thanks to Xander’s influence, but there were still times when she reverted to type. Her father’s announcement had been one of those times. “I just hope Dad’s awake to blow a gasket of his own when I get married.”  
  
Xander smiled softly. “One can only hope, Nymph. No current prospects lined up?”  
  
The metamorph snorted. “Nah. Not since Bill and I imploded back in school.”  
  
Xander nodded and didn’t pursue it. He knew full well that Nymphadora’s mother was putting more than enough pressure on the poor girl as things were. “I’ve got my shovel ready for when you do.”  
  
Nymphadora glared slightly at her only real father figure before dissolving into giggles. “Bill still refuses to go near shovels since you threatened him.”  
  
Xander’s only reply was a smug grin.  
  
**  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 29th 1994_  
  
Xander grinned at the broad assortment of students that were crammed into his classroom. Together they made up just over half of the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh year Defence students. This group made up those that were interested in learning to use the lesser disciplines of Occlumency to organise their minds and to defeat mind-effecting spells such as the Imperius, the Confundus and the Memory Charm. If this class went well Xander planned to offer those who wished it some training in the greater disciplines which were used to defeat legilimency, possession and other mental invasion techniques.  
  
“You folks are all here today because you have expressed an interest in learning Occlumency for the purposes of defeating the Imperius Curse. As I previously stated, I am not qualified to teach these techniques. Luckily for you, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt has kindly consented to lend you his expertise. Kingsley?”  
  
Shacklebolt stood up from where he’d been sitting, waving down the light applause. “Occlumency is the defence of the mind. It should be noted however that there are those who cannot learn it, for whatever reason. This may be due to mental trauma, lack of discipline or age. You will note that Professor Harris did not offer this option to the third years and below. This is because those younger than fourteen do not have the mental maturity necessary to learn this technique. I can already tell you that I expect the seventh years that are capable to pick this up faster. There are always exceptions, of course.  
  
“Now then, I would first like permission to do a simple probe of your minds. This probe will simply allow me to determine whether you are even capable of learning Occlumency. There’s no use wasting your time on something that will never do you any good…”  
  
**  
  
 _Hallway outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 29th 1994_  
  
Harry Potter walked out of the class, teeth grinding in frustration.  
  
“My but that’s an interesting expression you’re wearing.”  
  
Harry spun to find Xander leaning against the door. The teacher had left the classroom once he had been sure Kingsley had things under control. Harry just growled in faint frustration and began to stomp off.  
  
“What’s wrong, Harry?”  
  
Harry ground to a halt again but did not turn around. “Auror Shacklebolt said that he can’t teach me Occlumency.”  
  
Xander adopted a sympathetic expression. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Did he say why.”  
  
Harry’s mumble was unintelligible.  
  
“Once more with clarity, Mr. Potter. I speak gibberish pretty well, but I haven’t quite mastered mumblish.”  
  
Harry shot the professor a withering glare. “He said my mind has experienced too much trauma to ever succeed in Occlumency.”  
  
Xander shrugged faintly. “It’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of, Harry.”  
  
Harry’s expression became sullen. “I hate being weak.”  
  
Xander snorted in faint exasperation. “Do I look weak to you, Potter? Don’t forget that I too am incapable of learning occlumency for much the same reason.”  
  
“Yeah, but you had a possession or something. I never had anything like that.”  
  
Xander tapped his fist on Harry’s forehead, right over the boy’s scar. “God only knows what the hell happened to you on that night, Harry. I’m more then certain that taking that AK to the head constituted some serious mental trauma.”  
  
Harry nodded, still unhappy that he wouldn’t be able to learn Occlumency.  
  
Xander sighed. “What is it with teenagers, only ever looking on the dark side of things? I hope I wasn’t like this. Ah well. Think of the bright side of this Harry. No long boring lessons on how to clear your mind and all the other crap that goes into learning Occlumency. You can already resist the Imperius Curse.”  
  
Harry’s expression was skeptical. “Then why did you say that the Occlumency way was better?”  
  
“Because mental trauma is not a fun and enjoyable way to gain an immunity to the curse. The thing is that you and I have already taken the pain, so at least we can enjoy the benefits. Right?”  
  
Harry finally cracked a faint smile. “I guess so.”  
  
**  
  
 _Headmaster’s Office_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 30th 1994  
  
“You wanted to speak with me?”  
  
Albus offered a gimlet eye to his newest professor. “I asked to speak with you yesterday.”  
  
Xander grinned ingratiatingly. “You said as soon as it was convenient. It’s convenient now.”  
  
The headmaster briefly considered going to Madam Pomfrey for a headache potion. Talking to Alexander Harris made his head hurt. “You know full well I was just being polite.”  
  
“Politeness is nice. Accuracy is nicer. You’ll know better next time.”  
  
Dumbledore fought the urge to grind his teeth. “Perhaps I shall. May I ask what aurors were doing in Hogwarts without my knowledge or consent?”  
  
“Of course you may.”  
  
Albus counted to ten in his head. “What were aurors doing in Hogwarts without my knowledge or consent?”  
  
Xander smiled. “They were teaching a group of upper years the basics of Occlumency. Or rather Shacklebolt was. Nymphadora was just here because she’s Shacklebolt’s apprentice. I must admit it was nice to have my granddaughter in for a visit…”  
  
Dumbledore was too busy fighting down his rage to bother with Harris’ rambling about his family. “You’re having students taught Occlumency?”  
  
Xander affected shock. “Of course I am? That’s not a problem, is it?”  
  
Dumbledore fought back any comment. He couldn’t very well admit that he had Severus inspecting the minds of various members of the student body to get a feel for their loyalties. “Occlumency is a skill that can only be taught with parental consent. That means you should have come to me as I am acting in loco parentis while the students are here…”  
  
“Or I could simply have them get permission from their guardians like I did.”  
  
Dumbledore calmed down. Most of the Death Eaters wouldn’t want an auror scanning the minds of their precious children, which meant that they likely would not receive permission. The only other one he had to really worry about was Harry… “Did Mr. Potter manage to get permission?” Albus affected a demeanor of mild curiosity. He mustn’t appear too eager.  
  
Xander shrugged. “Yeah. Apparently he had a trying time of it, too. Didn’t come to much though. Harry’s been too mentally traumatised in the past to manage Occlumency. He was rather disappointed. I’m figuring we can blame Voldemort for that one.”  
  
Albus had never had such a fright, followed immediately by such a surge of relief. Harry managing to get a permission form signed by the Dursleys was rather unprecedented. He’d have to look into that. Harry’s mental trauma was a nice surprise though. It would keep the boy safe from the Imperius Curse while leaving him appropriately open to legilimency. Perfect. “A shame that Mr. Potter won’t be able to learn the art. Alas, what is done is done and cannot be undone.”  
  
“As you say, Albus. Was there anything else?”  
  
Satisfied that the damage had been mitigated as much as possible, Albus nodded. “Of course, my boy. Do come back anytime.”  
  
Xander nodded distractedly and left the office, his mind awhirl. Albus’ interest in Potter was intriguing. The man’s obvious unease with Xander making Occlumency available to the student body was very unsettling. Things were going on that Xander wasn’t seeing and he was sure that Potter was at the centre of it all somehow. Now all he had to do was figure it all out. If there was one thing Xander loved it was a good mystery. He wasn’t a Scooby for nothing…  
  
~~  
  
AN: Burned off of the tapestry. People who were burned off the tapestry were not necessarily cast out of the family. They were simply people Walburga thought didn't represent the Black values. Since she was not Lady Black (Arcturus II was Lord Black at the time) her opinion is not relevant.  
  
Andromeda's status. Andromeda's decision to marry a mixed-blood wizard born of very powerful parents was greeted with a bit of trepidation by the Family Black, but was accepted. The fact that Jesse was willing to take her name sweetened the pot a bit. Walburga was one of the few hold-outs but, as I previously stated, her opinion doesn't count.  
  
12 Grimmauld Place was the home of Orion and Walburga. It was not the main Black Family Manor.  
  
Jasper


	9. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
And here we go again...  
  
~~  
  
 _Hogwarts Grounds_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
October 13th 1994  
  
Alexander Harris stood outside the doors of Hogwarts Castle, surrounded by much of the faculty and student population. Xander was wrapped rather firmly in a thick woolen coat. Even after forty-odd years in England, Scotland and various chilly parts of Europe, Xander was still hard-pressed to disregard his upbringing in the warmer climes of California and subsequent assignment to the equally warm climes of Africa. “Are they here yet?”  
  
Minerva McGonagall rolled her eyes slightly at her husband’s bellyaching. She knew that if some vicious monster had been out here, prowling for students, her husband would have been silent and professional. Xander’s patience for standing in the cold to greet visiting dignitaries had a much lower threshold. “They should be here in a moment, Alexander.”  
  
A soft gasp from Hermione caused everyone to turn to the south, discovering what had to be a truly massive carriage, flying through the air.  
  
Xander narrowed his eyes at the horses pulling the carriage. “Abraxan or Pegasi, you think?”  
  
Hagrid rumbled a soft laugh. “Definitely Abraxan, Perfesser. Pegasi is too small to haul a carriage like that un through the air. Once they get up close it should be obvious.”  
  
Xander nodded as he conceded the point. Neither Abraxan nor Pegasi were considered particularly dangerous or malevolent and so Xander was not considered an expert in them.  
  
The Abraxan became quite obvious, as Hagrid had predicted, as the carriage drew closer. Whilst similar in appearance to a Pegasi, the Abraxan grows to the size of a small elephant whilst the Pegasi only grows to the size of a regular horse.  
  
The carriage finally landed, its massive door opened to reveal a truly… generously-sized woman. Xander fought the urge to speculate on the woman’s heritage. Goodness knew that Magical Britain was not a place one wanted to be when one had non-human blood in them. It quickly became obvious that the massive woman was Headmistress Maxime as she exchanged pleasantries with Albus.  
  
As the students of Beauxbatons exited the carriage, Xander was stunned at the rather pitiful number of males in the group. It became faintly obvious why soon after, though, as Xander felt a faint tug at his attention. Xander’s face became inscrutable. A Veela. That explained everything. Maxime likely considered her the favourite for the tournament. And so, just in case Maxime was wrong, she had specifically picked only those males that could be trusted to keep their heads in Fleur’s presence.  
  
Xander glanced about the Hogwarts faculty and was mildly amused to note that Hogwarts was going to need a lot of napkins to mop up all the drool. Outside of himself and Albus, only Severus, Hagrid, Filius, Harry, Neville, Terry, Cedric and Roger were unaffected. Xander quickly ran the group through his head, rapidly classing the group by why they were unaffected.  
  
There are only four distinct ways that a male can manage to overcome the pheromones of a Veela.  
  
The first is the lesser disciplines of Occlumency. That explained Albus, Severus and Roger. Roger had been the only student thus-far that had sufficient success with Kingsley’s weekly lessons.  
  
The second option was previous mental trauma that fought against mental control agents. Veela were not nearly as powerful or versatile as the Imperius, after all. That explained himself, Harry and probably Neville too.  
  
The third option was, as corny as it might seem, true love. True love was a very powerful charm, especially when running up against the comparatively weak charm of lust that Veela generated. He figured that explained Diggory. The Hufflepuff definitely seemed serious about that fifth year Ravenclaw, Chang. Xander also liked to believe he was immune because of that too, though he’d never been able to really check since his mental trauma kept him secure.  
  
The last option essentially involved a distinct lack of interest in women. Homosexuals were safe from Veela powers because it takes more then pheromones and lust magic to overcome a basic tenet of a person’s sexuality. It was a possible explanation for Terry Boot, though the true love and mental trauma options were still possible too. Xander remained quite confident that the muggleborn Boot would not have had access to occlumency training.

  
Xander, previously lost in his musings about Veela and whom there power affected, snapped back to the present as he noted the Veela girl and most of her school-mates freezing as they awaited the arrival of the Durmstrang delegation.  
  
Xander rolled his eyes expressively and sought out Dumbledore, before speaking fairly loudly, hoping the public nature of his comments would keep him from being overruled by Albus. “Why don’t you take your students indoors to warn up, Madame Maxime. It’s much too cold a time of year for your students to be out here without reason.”  
  
Olympe Maxime, who was doing far better then her students thanks to the hardiness of her giant blood, nodded in agreement with Hogwarts’ defence professor and led her shivering students indoors to await the Durmstrang delegation.  
  
Xander turned to find Dumbledore glaring at him. Xander wasn’t phased a bit by the glare. “Beauxbatons is on the French Riviera. They aren’t used to a Scottish Autumn. Hell, I’m not used to it and I’ve been living in this area for forty-odd years.”  
  
Dumbledore conceded the point without a word. He really should have thought of that himself, though he supposed he could blame it on living in England or Scotland for most of hundred-odd-years. “Touché, Alexander.”  
  
A far louder, collective gasp from the students heralded the bow of a massive ship, breaking the surface of the Black Lake.  
  
Xander smiled. “The _Mary Celeste_. I see that Headmaster Romanov has kept her in fine shape.”  
  
A twinkle appeared in Albus’ eyes. He loved knowing something that Alexander didn’t. “Actually Headmaster Romanov retired last month, Alexander.”  
  
Xander’s eyes widened in shock. He was nowhere near is adept at hiding his emotions as Albus was. Shock quickly gave way to disappointment. “That’s a shame. Romanov is a good man. Who replaced him?”  
  
“Albus!”  
  
Xander spun about to lock eyes with the man walking jauntily down the gangplank. Igor Karkaroff. A feral snarl echoed loudly across the Hogwarts lawn, shocking many. There weren’t many people who had ever seen Alexander Harris angry.  
  
Headmaster Karkaroff broke off his enthusiastic approach to grasp Albus in a friendly hug as he saw his much despised old opponent. Karkaroff offered Xander an ugly sneer. “Vell, I had assumed ven Moody vas injured that I vouldn’t have to deal vith a ministry-sponsored attack dog. It vould seem I vas half right. No one could ever mistake you for ministry-sponsored, yes?”  
  
Xander’s expression very much hinted at the possibility of violence. “Right you are Igor. How is your arm, by the way?”  
  
Karkaroff flinched violently at that comment, drawing great attention to the fact that Igor Karkaroff only had one real arm. A false hand, made of silver, clenched into an angry fist. “As good as the old one, I’m sure.”  
  
Dumbledore, quickly realising that his little surprise for Alexander, while certainly entertaining, had the potential to blow into an international incident, quickly stepped in to end the very public dispute. “Now, now gentlemen. I’m sure you two can rehash old rivalries later, in private. Why don’t we bring our students in from the cold to meet the Beauxbatons delegation?”  
  
Xander nodded briefly and spun on his heel, completely ignoring both Albus and Karkaroff.  
  
Karkaroff smiled genially to Albus and directed his students indoors. “Come Viktor, let’s get you in out of the cold.”  
  
Albus pinched his nose in exasperation before turning to Professor McGonagall. “He’s your husband and your candidate for the defence position, Minerva. Could you please do something about him?”  
  
Minerva’s glare could have melted granite. “It was your decision to reintroduce Alexander to Karkaroff without any warning, Albus. Don’t think I didn’t see the pleasure you got in trying to one-up my husband. You know full well what their history is. If your little games have blown up in your face don’t even think of coming to me for a burn salve. Go and see Severus. Maybe he will take pity on you.” With that, Albus’ very unsympathetic deputy headmistress left him standing at the docks, feeling rather dumb-founded.  
  
**  
  
 _Great Hall_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
October 13th 1994  
  
Albus could only be relieved that the verbal smiting Minerva had given him had taken place after everyone else had gone indoors. He did not need any sign of dissension in the ranks. Albus frowned as he glanced at Alexander, sitting on the very end of the table, as far from Karkaroff as he could conceivably manage. Albus sighed. Any more dissension, that is.  
  
Albus took a quick glance at the head table and noticed that the two visiting school heads had been sat on either side of him. Minerva had moved from her traditional place at his side and was currently seated next to her husband, speaking softly to him and hopefully trying to quell the burning rage Xander kept within him.  
  
Albus silently cursed himself for forgetting, or perhaps just ignoring, just how deep and abiding the hatred between Harris and Karkaroff was. Alexander had spent most of the war on Voldemort in the European theatre, trying to keep the European vampire covens from uniting enough to join Voldemort. As such, Alexander had come into heavy combat mostly with the European death eaters, Karkaroff and Dolohov. The enmity between them was the stuff legends were made of.  
  
Albus restrained a sigh and took his seat in the throne-like chair that denoted his status as headmaster. Seconds later he stood again, recalling he still had a speech to recite. “Welcome one and all to this, the first day of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I bid particular welcome to our visiting officials from the local Ministry of Magic and to the visiting faculty and students of the Beauxbatons Academy and the Durmstrang Institute. I will have more to say about the tournament later tonight, but for the moment I only have two words for you. Tuck in!”  
  
A clap of Albus’ hands appeared to summon the food for the opening feast of the tournament. Xander snorted softly. Albus and his ridiculous theatrics. It was enough to fool most of the children and even a few of the adults who weren’t owners of house elves. For those like Xander, who either owned or employed an elf, they knew right away that the sudden appearance of the feast was merely a sign of a very well trained house elf staff, making their master look more absurdly powerful then he really was. Which was not to say that Albus wasn’t very powerful, but the task he’d implied he’d done was beyond anyone in existence. It was just too complex.  
  
Xander sighed as he sipped water from a goblet. He had never acquired a taste for pumpkin-anything and the very name of butterbeer bothered him, despite the utter lack of actual alcohol in the drink.  
  
Minerva placed a hand on Xander’s shoulder, offering a sympathetic look.  
  
Xander offered a half-grin. “I’ll be fine, Min. I just thought I’d seen the last of that slimy bas…”  
  
“Alexander Harris!”  
  
Xander smirked. He’d very carefully never told Minerva what his middle name was. There were some things he was hoping to forget forever, though he had a feeling he’d suffer for it once his wife met the Scoobies. “Sorry, love. I’ll keep my language age appropriate.”  
  
Minerva offered the faintest hint of smile. “See that you do.”  
  
The meal went on for some time, eventually halting when Albus knocked a spoon against his crystal goblet, creating a loud ringing noise that was heard through the hall. “As I have stated, this is the official opening of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. As with previous tournaments, we shall be using an impartial judge to choose the final champions of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The Goblet of Fire.”  
  
The doors opened to reveal Argus Filch in a truly horrifying suit, pushing a large container. After fumbling with the locks on the container’s side, Argus stepped back and allowed Hagrid to lift the massive goblet out, placing it right in the middle of the Great Hall.”  
  
Speaking an ancient incantation, the like of which was rarely seen in modern times, Albus fired a spell that lit the goblet. Allowing his eyes to rove over the gathered students, Albus looked at all of them in an evaluating manner. “The Goblet of Fire is lit. On Halloween it will expel three names from its depths, each of whom will be required to compete for their school in this tournament. A word of warning. Once you are chosen, there is no going back. The Tri-Wizard Tournament is not lightly entered.  
  
“Now then, I will be placing an age line around the goblet this night. It will make certain that no one who will not be seventeen by Halloween will be able to enter. This is in accordance with the decision of our various ministries. I caution all Hogwarts students. Do not approach the line unless you are of age or will be by the time of selection.  
  
“For those who are of age, simply write your name and school on a piece of paper and then cast it into the goblet. That will signify your consent to participate. Any questions.” Albus allowed his eyes to roved the hall once more. “No? Then I bid you all a good night and many pleasant dreams.”  
  
~~  
  
And another one bites the dust... ;)  
  
AN: The above references to homosexuality reflect my guess as to how the wizarding world would see it. It does not reflect my personal feelings on the subject.  
  
Jasper


	10. Three Champions and a Spare

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
Here we go again...  
  
~~  
  
 _Great Hall  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
October 31st 1994_  
  
“Lexie!”  
  
Xander looked up from his place at the head table to see a very welcome face from his past. He barely got out his reply of, “Dorcas!” before the redheaded blur that was Dorcas Meadowes glomped on him. Xander grinned. Dorcas was an enthusiastic little thing, for all that she was fairly short. Xander could see Minerva fighting a smirk at Dorcas’ greeting.  
  
Dorcas’ first meeting with Xander Harris had been in early 1980. Xander had returned to England with a fiery vengeance following the cursing of his only son, Jesse. It was unclear to all but Xander how exactly he had discovered that Dorcas was being targeted by Voldemort. All that anyone was sure of was that Voldemort himself, along with a few death eaters, had decided to end her.  
  
Enter the Hunter. Xander had arrived at a critical juncture, trowing a live grenade right into Voldemort’s face. By the time Voldemort had recovered his wits and realised what had dropped into his lap he had just barely enough time to kick it away before getting an explosive dismemberment. The resulting explosion still killed a death eater and shook Voldemort and the other three up enough that they did not note the escape of Xander and Dorcas.  
  
Xander was heavily criticised in the press and by Dumbledore for using muggle weaponry in a wizarding fight. One of the few that defended him was Dorcas Meadowes who felt that without Xander’s crazy plan that she would have been just another name in the casualty figures. The sad truth is that she was likely correct.  
  
Xander shook his head free of the memory. “Well, well. What’s this I hear about you being a department head now, eh Mighty Mouse? Magical Games and Sports, wasn’t it? And here they said Bagman had that title all sewn up.”  
  
Dorcas offered a tolerant smile to Xander. As a muggleborn, Dorcas was well aware of who Mighty Mouse was and believed she understood why he called her that. The simple fact was that Dorcas was small and quiet until you got her excited or miffed and then heaven help you. “Yes, I’m the new department head, Xander. That’s why I’m here. Bagman didn’t get the job after some heavy politicking by Barty.”  
  
Xander nodded. “Makes sense. Crouch probably figures that a department head should be a competent manager and not just a public face. In all fairness, he’s probably right. If it was any other department but the DMGS, he probably wouldn’t have had to do so much politicking to keep Bagman out. DMGS is the only department where he could likely do minimal damage.”  
  
“Quite right, Mr. Harris. But then I pointed out that the Tri-Wizard Tournament was coming up and that the international embarrassment could be overwhelming if the tasks were not planned properly. Fudge saw reason rather quickly after that.”  
  
Dorcas grinned broadly and let Xander loose, motioning to the aging department head at her side. “Bartemius Crouch, Director of International Magical Cooperation, might I introduce Alexander Harris, Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts and noted hunter.”  
  
Crouch offered a faint hint of smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Harris. I’m certainly glad to have you on hand for this spectacle. Lots of potential security concerns.”  
  
Xander nodded amiably. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”  
  
Crouch inclined his head faintly. “I’m sure you will.” And with that he went to take his seat next to Headmaster Karkaroff.  
  
Xander turned to Dorcas, a faint grin crossing his lips. “Warm guy.”  
  
Dorcas rolled her eyes. “You have no idea, Lex.”  
  
**  
  
 _Great Hall  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
October 31st 1994_  
  
Albus Dumbledore glanced about the great hall with the appearance of a king who was surveying his kingdom. He had Headmaster Karkaroff and Headmistress Maxime at his sides and Directors Barty Crouch and Dorcas Meadowes flanking them. The other Hogwarts teachers were spread out across the head table.  
  
Dumbledore fired a quelling glance at Dorcas. While many, including Xander, found the woman’s zest and effervescence to be quite enjoyable, Albus felt her enthusiasm was more then a bit tiresome. Still, she was a vast improvement over Ludo Bagman. At least Meadowes was honest and competent.  
  
The headmaster stood up and raised his voice to be heard over the mild din. “The Goblet of Fire has completed its selection process and will soon offer up the names of the champions of each school. Eternal glory. That is what awaits the victor of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”  
  
A popping sensation was heard as a small slip of paper popped out of the goblet’s flames. Albus reached out and caught it in a smooth gesture. He glanced at the paper briefly. “The champion for the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic is… Fleur Delacour!”  
  
Wild applause was heard from the Beauxbatons contingent, as well as most of the males of Hogwarts and Durmstrang. Only the non-Beauxbatons women and a few selected men were able to keep their enthusiasm fairly low-key.  
  
Another popping sensation heralded the arrival of another small slip of paper from the goblet’s depths. Albus reached out and caught this one as well. A quick glance followed. “The champion for the Durmstrang Institute is… Viktor Krum!”  
  
Even wilder applause greeted Krum, who was a very popular Quidditch player, after all. Some, including Ronald Weasley, were going so far as to give the man a standing ovation.  
  
The final expected popping sensation foretold the arrival of the third small slip of paper from the goblet. Albus smoothly caught the note and glanced at with a distinct aura of curiosity. The old man showed faint surprise, but nodded agreeably. “The champion for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is… Cedric Diggory!”  
  
The applause for Diggory was somewhat stunted after the very popular Quidditch player and the highly attractive Veela, but Hufflepuff house in particular clapped very vigorously. It wasn’t often they were offered the chance to shine and they welcomed it with open arms.  
  
Dumbledore smiled broadly as Cedric joined his fellow champions in the antechamber. “Now…”  
  
Another popping noise interrupted whatever Albus was going to say as a fourth slip of paper shot out of the goblet. Only Minerva noted Xander’s eyes narrowing in suspicion. Dumbledore snatched the paper urgently out of the air, scanning it and then scanning it again. Finally he broke his silence. “Harry Potter.” A long silence followed as the entire student body, Harry included, froze in shock.  
  
“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore’s voice was louder this time and shook many out of their shock. Hermione push a still-gobsmacked Harry out of his seat and he headed towards the antechamber walking like he was drunk. Xander stood rapidly and followed the lad, putting a supportive hand on the boy’s shoulder.  
  
**  
  
 _Antechamber off of the Great Hall  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
October 31st 1994_  
  
Xander led Harry into the antechamber, a firm grip on the lad’s shoulder.  
  
Harry turned desperately to the grim-faced DADA professor. “I didn’t do it, Professor. I honestly didn’t.”  
  
A half-smile crossed Xander’s face. “I know that, Potter. Just tell them what you know and I’ll do my best for you.” And with that, Xander walked over to the edge of the room and seemed almost blend into the stonework. He wasn’t invisible by any stretch, but he was so still that you likely wouldn’t notice him if you weren’t looking for him.  
  
Xander’s steady gaze was locked onto the three heads of the various schools, the two ministry officials, his wife and Severus.  
  
Karkaroff and Maxime were both complaining about Hogwarts having two champions and demanding that they get a second one too, something that was never going to happen.  
  
Finally the moment happened that Xander had been waiting for. Severus was opening his big mouth. “Don’t blame Dumbledore for Potter’s determination to break the rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here.”  
  
“An interesting theory, Severus. Especially when you know it is patently false. It is utterly impossible that Harry could have been responsible for this incident.”  
  
Snape snorted in disgust. “Typical. Like all the other teachers at this school, you fall into the boy’s accursed legend. Potter can do no wrong.”  
  
“On the contrary, Severus. I am sure that Potter has and will commit wrongs over most of his life. There is no one who does not do so. I merely say that it is impossible for Potter to have committed this particular wrong.”  
  
Snape’s glare could have melted concrete. “You truly believe Potter could not have found a way around the age line? Even you cannot be that much of an idiot, Harris.”  
  
“On the contrary, Severus. I can think of six or seven ways to spoof the age line, however well Albus drew it. I would ask, however, if your immense education includes the ability to count?”  
  
Maxime’s face displayed confusion. “What does ze ability to count have to do with zis incident?”  
  
Xander smirked at the large woman. “How may champions are there supposed to be in the Tri-Wizard Tournament?”  
  
And most of those present understood at that point. It was actually Diggory who answered the question. “Only three. But somehow there are four champions.”  
  
Xander nodded to the Hufflepuff. “Mr. Diggory gets my point. If Harry’s name had come out instead of Cedric’s, then it would be easy enough to point the finger of blame at Potter. The appearance of Harry as the fourth champion, however, implies an act of far greater skill and finesse then a fourth year, or any school child for that matter, could have managed. It tells us that Harry’s entry was not a mistake, nor an arrogant child’s whim, nor even a simple prank. It was a plot that likely took a great deal of planning and skill to pull off.”  
  
“To vhat end?” The belligerent voice of Karkaroff broke in.  
  
Xander’s lips curled in a sneer but he restrained himself from acting against the hated Karkaroff. “There are limited options. The most likely, though it is a rather haphazard strategy, is that someone wants Potter dead.”  
  
Harry turned white at the proclamation. “Dead?”  
  
Xander nodded solemnly. “Luckily for you, Mr. Potter, I will assist you in this endeavour.”  
  
Barty Crouch spoke up for the first time. “Actually, Mr. Harris, teachers are not allowed to assist any of the champions in the tournament.”  
  
Xander’s face adopted a dark look as he glared at the officious twit. “You will find, if you reexamine the rule book, that it only applies to teachers involved directly in the tournament. This includes judges, like yourselves, or those who assist in setting up the various tasks. I have been approached for neither and hereby serve notice that I refuse to be approached for this sort of thing over the course of the year.  
  
“Also, I will point out that I have no interest in helping Potter win the tournament. I am here to keep him alive. If you people have a problem with that, then you can find a new holster for your wands. I don’t care.”  
  
Barty was switching rapidly from white to red and back again as he sputtered incoherently, before he finally managed to regain his equilibrium. “Yes well. The first task will be on November 24th. This will be call the test of tenacity. Each champion will bring only their wand and their broom. The rest will be explained on the day in question. Dismissed.”  
  
**  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Office_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
October 31st 1994  
  
As the champions dispersed, Xander grabbed Harry and dragged the young man along until they reached his office, tossing the lad in ahead of him.  
  
Harry fumbled for his wand, only to have it slapped out of his hand by the far more experienced adult.  
  
“Calm yourself, Potter. I brought you here to give you some solid advice. Watch your arse this year.”  
  
Harry shook his head in exasperation. “As if I didn’t know that much.”  
  
“What you don’t seem to understand is that you are bound to compete by magical contract. Do you understand the full implications of that fact?”  
  
“I’ve got to compete in the tournament. I have no choice.”  
  
Xander shook his head in exasperation, hoping he wasn’t such a thick-headed brat as a teenager. If he had been then he owed the G-man an apology. “I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that I knew, Potter, but there is much more to it then that.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yes, Harry. There’s more. Do you know who can enter you into a contract in the muggle world?”  
  
“Well, I can…”  
  
“No you can’t. Barring a few exceptions, you cannot enter into a contract as a minor.”  
  
Harry nodded, acknowledging the point. “Aunt Petunia, then?”  
  
Xander nodded. “Basically its your parent or guardian. And it’s the same in the magical world, do you understand that?”  
  
Harry’s expression was priceless. “You’re saying Aunt Petunia was the one who entered me in the tournament?”  
  
Xander snorted loudly in amusement. “No, Harry, your Aunt Petunia is the least likely candidate, though it’s possible. Not bloody likely, but possible.”  
  
Harry considered for a long moment. “Then who else?”  
  
Xander’s face took on a grim look. “There are only three others that could enter you successfully. Dumbledore, Minerva and Sirius Black.”  
  
Harry’s jaw dropped at that list. “But… but how?”  
  
Xander smirked slightly. “Minerva and Albus are responsible for you, here. They act in loco parentis whilst you are at school. Their power to enter you into contracts is limited to things like school activities, but the Tournament is one of those.”  
  
As Harry digested that point, Xander added fuel to the fire. “Black, meanwhile, is still technically your legal guardian. Since he was never granted a trial he was never officially divested of his various legal entitlements, including your legal guardianship.”  
  
Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “How do you know all this?”  
  
Xander’s face was truly Slytherin smugness. “Sirius Black’s legal status was discovered in ‘92 when my daughter-in-law attempted to claim the family title. Unfortunately, with her dear cousin’s legal status being in limbo, so was the title. She was attempting to gain him a trial to clear things up when the idiot went and escaped.”  
  
Harry’s mind was boggling at the things this man knew. “Then you know Sirius is innocent.”  
  
Xander shrugged. “I know no such thing. I know he was illegally denied trial and that it’s been fouling up succession in the House of Black and apparently Potter as well. Do I think Black is guilty, I really don’t know much about it. It certainly seems he’s guilty, but without a trial its hard to say for sure.”  
  
Harry was strongly considering telling the professor about Wormtail, but without any proof it was debatable whether the other man would be convinced. “What now?”  
  
Xander thought for a long moment. “We meet once a week, after classes. I’m going to teach you some tricks geared to survival. In the meanwhile, watch yourself around Dumbledore and keep a firm lookout in case it was Black.”  
  
Harry smirked faintly. “Not going to tell me to watch myself around your wife?”  
  
Xander answered with a smirk of his own. “If you don’t fear Minerva already, then it only proves you lions have no sense of self-preservation.”  
  
~~  
  
Dorcas: Dorcas Meadowes is an example of Xander flapping his wings and causing hurricanes in Scotland...  
\- Xander saves Dorcas from Voldemonkey  
\- Therefore: Dorcas lives to become Director of Magical Games and Sports  
\- Therefore: Dorcas plans the tasks for the Tri-Wizard Tournament  
\- Therefore: I don't have to used the way overused same three tasks that we've all seen done umpteen times or so!!  
  
Jasper


	11. Checkmate

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
November 1st 1994_  
  
Xander Harris sighed in exasperation as he saw the proverbial cracks appearing in the foundation of Harry Potter’s life. It was subtle, but very difficult to miss for someone with Xander’s experience. The evidence was right there in his classroom, after all.  
  
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were sitting apart from each other. The cause was as obvious as the livid expression on Weasley’s face. Ron believed, for whatever reason, that Potter had, indeed, entered his name illegally. And so Weasley, who so obviously longed for some little fragment of glory for himself, resented that he hadn’t been let in on the big secret.  
  
Xander smiled as he noted Hermione Granger sitting next to Harry. Perhaps his little talk had been of greater help then anybody might have hoped. Perhaps the girl had simply perceived Harry’s innocence without Xander’s prodding. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his charge still had some sort of safety net. Xander nodded firmly to himself. He’d deal with Weasley later.  
  
“Vampires… That is what today’s class will deal with. How to identify them... What they are… And how to execute them…”  
  
Hermione’s face adopted a faint frown, but Xander ignored it. He knew she was one so caught up in the sentience debate that she simply forgot to consider the simplicity of good vs. evil.  
  
Xander spun about, throwing his gaze about the room. “Would anyone care to give me an identifying sign of a vampire?”  
  
Hermione’s hand rose, but Xander ignored her in favour of someone whose hand was down. “Mr. Thomas.”  
  
Dean Thomas flinched faintly surprised, despite himself, that Xander had picked him. He quickly drew on his muggle upbringing to come up with an answer that would hopefully satisfy the professor. “They don’t show up in mirrors.”  
  
Xander nodded in acceptance. “Indeed. The do not have a reflection. This applies to mirrors and any other reflective surface. This is the best way to identify your vampire. The only other ways require you to risk life and limb or are prone to error. Another if you please.”  
  
Xander picked Draco Malfoy this time. “They smell of death and decay.”  
  
Xander stopped and glanced at Draco, somewhat surprised by the insight. “Yes and no, Mr. Malfoy. You are quite correct. Vampires do carry a faint scent of death and decay on them and even on clothing they have worn. It should be noted, however, that the human nose cannot pick up this scent. It is much more subtle then on a regular corpse since the vampire’s inherent magic is fighting the decay. I will note that certain species with superior senses of smell and even a werewolf that’s especially close to ‘that time of the month’ will be able to pick up the scent. An excellent choice, Mr. Malfoy, though not particularly useful for a garden-variety human.”  
  
Malfoy appeared to be trying to figure out whether he was being insulted or praised for his answer. Most of the ladies, meanwhile, seemed a touch irritated with Xander for his reference to ‘that time of the month’. Xander fought an internal smirk. Women and werewolves were so very sensitive about that.  
  
Xander glanced about and picked another student. “Longbottom. How about you?”  
  
Neville offered a faint smile before thinking for a moment. “A vampire is a corpse. So its flesh would be cold.”  
  
Xander nodded. “This is one method that requires you to risk life and limb. Most vampires are not going to let you feel their flesh, looking for cold flesh, a lack of pulse or what have you. These types of tests are very accurate, but also very dangerous. Anyone else?”  
  
This time Xander pointed out Hermione. “Their pale colouration.”  
  
Xander nodded. “Yes, vampires tend to be pale. This is, as I have implied though, not a fool proof method of identification. Professor Snape, to give you a personal example, is not a vampire. I’m sorry to disprove the theory. I know it’s a popular one. But Professor Snape is merely someone who doesn’t get a lot of sun.”  
  
Snickers came from the Gryffindor side of the class whilst a few of the Slytherins appeared to be fighting amusement. Like him or not, Professor Snape was exceedingly pale.  
  
“Vampires will often keep their mode of dress from when they were alive. This means that their clothes will tend to be outdated. Often vastly so. However, this is not fool proof either. Check and double check.”  
  
Xander spun around, posting a picture on the wall. “I’ve saved the best for last for identifying features. Get the vampire to reveal its demonic face.” Xander began pointing at the picture he’d put up. “Note the massive facial ridges and the yellow eyes. You see this type of face and you know what you’re dealing with. Now for getting them to reveal their true faces, there are several effective methods:  
  
“The first is simply to lure them into believing you are an easy meal. A vampire reveals its true face or ‘vamps out’ when it is moving in for the kill. It should be noted though that this is somewhat risky.  
  
“A better choice is to shock or harm a vampire. This also causes ‘vamping out’. Your best bet for this is a religious icon or a sample of holy water.”  
  
Hermione’s hand shot up.  
  
“Yes, Miss Granger?”  
  
“You say that religious icons are effective against vampires. And holy water too. Does this lend any credence to the religions behind them.”  
  
Xander shook his head. “I am not here to tell you what the true faith is. It could be Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, Sikhism, Hinduism or any one of a hundred-odd religions that are scattered across the globe. It could also be any of a hundred virtually dead religions or it could be a religion that does not truly exist yet. It doesn’t really matter to this conversation.  
  
“The power that religious symbols have over vampires is not based on the power of any one God, but rather on the power of a communal belief in the aforementioned God. You will note that the more widespread a religious symbol is, the more power such a symbol will have in repelling a vampire.  
  
“In fact, there are certain non-religious symbols that can repel vampires under the right circumstances.”  
  
Hermione’s eyebrows raised, her curiosity piqued. “Like?”  
  
Xander smirked. “The Christmas wreath. When it is place upon a door, during the Christmas season, the sheer power of the belief in Santa Claus by the children around the world will be enough to keep a vampire from entering any doorway that is protected by a wreath during the Christmas season. This includes public buildings and even dwellings that a vampire has been invited into.”  
  
To say that the whole class was astounded was to speak a true understatement.  
  
Xander’s smirk broadened into a heartfelt smile. “Belief is one of the most powerful charms in existence. It is second only to love in its sheer power. Of course, the ability to harness either of those two charms is far easier said then done.  
  
“Now then. We’ve dealt with recognising vampires. Does anyone understand how a vampire is created?”  
  
**  
  
 _Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom_  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
November 1st 1994  
  
The class continued on, discussing how vampires were animated corpses that were possessed by evil demons through a sharing of blood. Blood was another truly powerful device in magic. Xander also dealt with the various ways through which one could kill a vampire, offering up suggestions as to which spells would be most effective against them.  
  
Finally the class was wrapped up and Xander sought out his target. “Weasley! Stay behind, would you?”  
  
The Gryffindor appeared rather shocked that he was being asked to stay behind. “Professor?”  
  
Xander waved Ron back to his desk. “This shouldn’t take long, Ron. I just need to have a chat with you.”  
  
Ron looked a touch wary, making Xander wonder if he had done something wrong. “Okay.”  
  
Xander perched himself on a chair and stared at the lad for a long moment. “I noticed rather a touch more tension in my classroom today then is normal. Care to explain that?”  
  
Ron’s face was pure confusion. “Professor?”  
  
Xander shook his head. “Between you and Potter, Weasley. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I’d like an explanation.”  
  
Weasley’s face took on an ugly expression. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”  
  
Xander grinned faintly. One of the things he actually liked about Weasley was that the kid didn’t tend to lie. Or at least he didn’t lie well. His heart was on his sleeve. “It’s my business because it has the potential to be disruptive. It’s my business because it’s likely to effect your performance, Harry’s performance and even Hermione’s performance. And since there isn’t any sort of school counselor in this place to deal with these issues, it falls to me. I’d rather not wait until this devolves into a fist fight or, worse yet, a duel.”  
  
Ron glared at the teacher for a long moment. “Harry cheated his way into the tournament and didn’t even bother to tell me how so I could.”  
  
Xander stared at Ron for a long moment before picking up a chess board off of his desk and placing it on Ron’s, gesturing for the younger man to go first.  
  
Ron was utterly confused, but ordered one of his pawns forward.  
  
The two played in silence for a long moment before Xander spoke again. “I hear you’re very good at this game, Weasley. My wife is something of a master at this game and she says you defeated a chess set she had prepared personally.”  
  
Ron blushed faintly at the tips of his ears. “So?”  
  
Xander shifted one of his knights to take one of Ron’s pieces. Ron noted that while Xander was not really much better than Harry at the game he was particularly effective with his knights. “Do you know what all of the great chess masters have in common beyond their ability to play chess really well?”  
  
Ron grunted as he took one of Xander’s bishops. “What?”  
  
Xander locked eyes with the younger man. “No true chess master is an idiot, Ron. They can see patterns to the point where they can think several moves ahead of the one they are making.”  
  
“What’s your point?”  
  
“My point is that your assertion that Harry entered himself is bullshit and you are intelligent enough to recognise it. There are countless indicators for someone of any brains to pick up.”  
  
Ron fired a glare at his teacher. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Check.”  
  
Xander shifted a rook in front of his king. “Yes you do. You’ve known Harry for over three years. I’ve known him for less than three months. There is no way you’d have failed to notice how Harry feels about his fame. Do you honestly think he wants more?”  
  
Ron frowned. “But the thousand galleons…”  
  
“Is a pittance, I hear, next to his rumoured inheritance. You’re a pureblood, Ron. Don’t pretend to me that you have no idea what the Potters were and are worth.”  
  
Ron snarled slightly. “You want to hear I know that Harry didn’t enter himself. Fine, I know. Are you happy?”  
  
Xander smirked broadly. “I’m getting there. Now why are you really angry at Harry. Tell me the truth, this time. It’ll save you a lot of trouble. Far better liars than you have tried and failed to deceive me.”  
  
Ron sighed heavily. “It’s just that Harry seems to get everything and I’ve got nothing much. Harry always seems to get the better end of the deal.”  
  
“Ron, I think you really need to think about a few things.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yes. The first thing you should consider is what Harry had to pay for all of his advantages.”  
  
Ron began to look a touch uncomfortable.  
  
“Harry’s inheritance comes from the fact that the Potters are all dead but him. He is the last of the family. On his mother’s side I understand he’s down to an aunt, uncle and a cousin. That’s not much, especially when you consider the size of your own family.”  
  
Ron’s discomfort increased as he thought of Harry’s very few relatives. Even the ones Harry had left were not something to be celebrated.  
  
“So let’s ignore his money and concentrate on his fame next, shall we? First of all I should tell you that fame is a double-edged sword. Oh, it opens lots of doors. I won’t deny it. On the other hand it makes it difficult to sort the true friends from the fans and the suck-ups. And in Harry’s case he is a target for every free death eater who is looking to avenge his master.”  
  
Ron moved a pawn forward as he formulated a reply. “It just seems like I can never be the best at anything. It’s frustrating. Especially when my friends do better than me at just about everything.”  
  
Xander took the pawn with his knight. “You want the honest truth, Ron?”  
  
“I suppose.”  
  
“Okay. Here it is. I doubt very much if you will ever be the best at anything. There will always be someone superior to at anything you care to name. You may never meet your superior, but he is somewhere. And you know what? The same is true of Harry and Hermione both. Neither of them is the best at anything. So what? Does that make them somehow lesser because they are not the best?”  
  
Xander stood and walked about the room. “It’s a big world, Ron. Too big to ever hope to be the best of the best at anything. The only person worth competing against is the one you’ve seen in the mirror every day since your birth.  
  
“Draco and Harry are richer than you are. So what? Focus on improving your financial situation if you dislike it. Don’t resent others for the gifts that were granted them. Hermione has better grades than you. Again, so what? If you are unhappy with your grades than study harder or ask for tutoring or something. You want to be better, than make yourself better.  
  
“If all you do with your life is gripe about what other people are given or have achieved, than all you will ever become is a bitter man who never achieved anything because he spent all of his time wishing life had given him what others had gotten.”  
  
Ron’s face was flaming red with humiliation.  
  
Xander’s voice softened. “Believe it or not, I was like you once. I came from a family that lacked material things. My parents were drunks who spent more money on booze than anything resembling usefulness. I wasn’t discovered to be a wizard when I was eleven and so I was thought to be a powerless nobody. For a long time I was bitter about it.  
  
“And then one day, I decided not to care. I stopped giving a damn about whether I was as rich or powerful or useful as others. I stopped caring about all the people who said I wasn’t good enough. I stopped caring about all of that and suddenly I started to accomplish things. But I couldn’t do any of that while I wallowed in self-pity.”  
  
Ron nodded faintly. “I think I understand.” He shifted his queen. “Checkmate.”  
  
Xander smirked broadly. “Congratulations, kid. Now pull your head out of your arse and repair the damage you’ve been doing to yourself and your friends.”  
  
The redhead sprinted out the door.  
  
Xander picked up his chess board and placed it back on his desk, carefully repositioning the pieces. “And to think I told Minerva that I'd never find use for this chess set when she gave it to me. Checkmate indeed.”  
  
~~  
  
And here we are again...  
  
The idea of Christmas wreaths warding against vampires was a concept of my own. I rather thought it was an intriguing idea... Hope you liked it.  
  
Jasper


	12. Curbing Influence

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
  
~~  
  
_Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
November 6th 1994_  
  
“How can I be better than I am right now?” Xander glanced up to see Neville Longbottom. He’d half-expected Ronald might do this as a result of the talk they’d had, but he hadn’t expected Neville. This was a pleasant surprise.  
  
Xander placed his quill back on his desk and stood, staring fixedly at his godson with his one eye. “The first question you must ask is what you wish to improve upon. If your goal is to improve your grades, then the method will be different then if your goal is to improve your quidditch skills. There are a million ways that you can improve yourself, Neville. Pick something to improve first.”  
  
Neville nodded seriously and considered for a long moment. “I want to learn to fight.”  
  
Xander pursed his lips. “To duel or fight, Neville?”  
  
Neville blinked. “What’s the difference?”  
  
Xander smiled and assumed his lecturing voice. “To duel is to enter a battle following a set of rules that have been agreed upon beforehand. It is often refereed by another person in order make certain both parties stick to the rules. To fight is to enter a battle in which the only rules that the combatants follow are the rules of their own conscience. There is no referee and there are no hard and fast rules. If you wish to learn to duel, I’d suggest you seek out Professor Flitwick. I am a mediocre duelist at the best of times. If you wish to learn to fight than I can teach you what I know, over time.”  
  
Neville stood silently for a very long time before apparently coming to a decision. “I want to learn to fight.”  
  
Xander offered a faint nod of approval. “Now my question is why. Why do you want to learn to fight?”  
  
The boy glanced around as if making certain no one was around to hear. “My parents. I want to be able to make a difference. I want to make sure that what happens to them never happens again. I can’t do that if I don’t know how to fight.”  
  
Xander’s level of approval increased. “Go back to the tower and get changed into shorts and a t-shirt. Then come back here. Grab Potter too if you see him. And make sure he dresses the same.”  
  
“Why Harry?”  
  
“I agreed to train him for his own protection. I’m sure you realise this tournament is dangerous, right.”  
  
Neville nodded sagely. He was a pureblood, raised by a pureblood. He’d been thoroughly schooled in wizarding history long before he’d heard the name Binns. The Tri-Wizard Tournament was infamous for the dangers involved. “I’ll be back shortly.”  
  
Xander grinned. “I know, kid. Brace yourself. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”  
  
**  
  
_The Black Lake  
Hogwarts Grounds  
November 6th 1994_  
  
Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter both wanted to die. When Xander had said that their first task under his tutelage was to join him for a jog around the Black Lake, neither had thought much of it. Now that they were about a quarter of the way around the lake, though, the depth of the task was beginning to sink in.  
  
Neville was a pureblood son of a pureblood house. What’s more, the intellectual laziness of the wizarding world was not the only thing that was lazy about the society. Neville was a product of a poor diet and fairly limited exercise. Even with natural resiliency of a wizard’s body, this put Neville at a terrible disadvantage to start.  
  
Harry’s problems were much the opposite. A terribly restricted diet at the Dursleys, combined with a far too fatty diet whilst at Hogwarts had not done much good at keeping Harry physically hardy. Granted he was still a prize specimen next to his vastly overweight cousin and ninety-nine percent of wizards, but it was still pathetic next to a fully trained hunter who had been eating right and exercising regularly for decades.  
  
It was going to be a long road before either could hope to match their erstwhile mentor, but both boys possessed a stubborn streak. That, combined with Neville’s drive to improve and Harry’s drive to survive, would hopefully give them the strength where their bodies lacked it.  
  
**  
  
_Headmaster’s Office  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
November 6th 1994_  
  
Albus Dumbledore frowned deeply as he watched Professor Harris leading Mr. Longbottom and Harry around the Black Lake. Professor Harris had far too much influence over Hogwarts students already, but those two in particular. It drove Dumbledore to distraction, wondering if Harris had somehow uncovered the prophecy already.  
  
Albus took a deep breath. Alexander wasn’t a god. He just had that truly ungodly luck at his command. He’d taken those two under his wing because Harry was in the Tournament and because Neville was Xander’s godson. That was all. At least Albus hoped that was all. The last thing he needed was for his Defence professor to discover and start fiddling with the prophecy. He had forgotten how charismatic the blasted hunter was.  
  
It wasn’t that Albus hated Xander, despite what Professor McGonagall thought. On the contrary, Albus respected the man greatly. Unfortunately Xander was also was one of those obstinate people who absolutely refused to take Dumbledore’s word on anything. The man was a critical thinker and it made it very difficult for him to direct Harris into where Albus saw the man’s role in the fight should be.  
  
The second item at issue was Xander’s methods. The man favoured an inappropriate and very non-traditional array of weapons and tactics that practically screamed muggle. Such things were much too controversial in the government. They potentially undermined government support, at least in Britain, of anyone who used them. He didn’t need Neville and Harry being tarred with the same brush. Still worse was Harris’ magical predilections. While Minerva was correct in saying that her husband was adamantly against the dark arts, that distaste didn’t extend to grey arts. Harris was an avid user of those and Albus considered them as abhorrent as the dark arts in their own way.  
  
The final problem with Harris was his outright hatred of and disregard for prophecy. The man’s dislike for divination was legendary. Xander was on record as stating that divination was a tool of weak-minded fools to try to abdicate their responsibility to act. The younger man just didn’t understand that prophecy itself was immutable. It was a thoroughly proven fact. Albus’ lips quirked faintly. It would be interesting to see what might happen if Sybill and Xander were to ever discuss Sybill’s subject at length. Dumbledore shook his head. Sybill had already made two prophecies concerning Voldemort. She was too valuable to risk on such a childish fancy.  
  
Albus refocused on the three runners. He had to break that up. Harry and Neville were young and easily influenced by the charismatic man. He didn’t want them picking up Xander’s habits. Running was likely only the beginning. The trick was in managing it. He couldn’t do it directly. Firstly because he had no official cause and second because it offended his sensibilities to be so… direct. That was Harris’ style. He preferred elegance.  
  
There was nothing obvious he could do about Harry, the rules of the tournament having been gotten around by the clever defence professor. Perhaps he should start with Neville then? Albus grinned. There was one person with the right and the inclination to interfere in such extracurricular lessons.  
  
Dumbledore picked up a pinch of floo powder and dropped it into his fire. “Longbottom Manor.”  
  
“Yes?” The clipped voice of Augusta Longbottom echoed out of Albus’ fireplace.  
  
“Ah, Augusta, how wonderful to see you again. I just called to say how glad I am to see that you’ve healed the rift between yourself and young Alexander. It’s refreshing to know that you’re not letting old grudges get in the way of…”  
  
“What in Merlin’s name are you jabbering about, Albus? I haven’t spoken to Harris in years and have no intention of doing so any time soon. That two-faced monster cost me my Frank. He’s as bad as Black and I’d gladly see him share that beast’s fate if I had my choice in the matter…”  
  
Albus affected shock. “I’d just assumed, since your grandson is taking private lessons with the man, that the rift had healed.”  
  
“Neville is doing WHAT?!”  
  
Albus hid a smile. _This should cut some of Harris’ thrice-damned influence on those two._  
  
~~  
  
My apologies on the rant about healthy diet and exercise. I completed a Health and Wellness class and my real life occasionally comes through in my writing... ;)  
  
Jasper


	13. The Godfather

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
  
  
~~  
  
 _The Black Lake  
Hogwarts Grounds  
November 6th 1994_  
  
Harry and Neville fell to the ground gasping as the three runners finally finished their lap around the Black Lake. Both boys were utterly exhausted and lay spread out on the grass.  
  
Xander turned around to level a smirk at his two exhausted charges. “No you don’t, boys. Haul yourselves back to your feet and walk about slowly for a while. You need to cool down after an exercise.” The boys both turned exhausted glares on their would-be mentor, but Xander was unmoved. “Don’t even bother with those looks, boys. I know what I’m talking about. If you don’t have a cool down after that run you will be in real pain in the morning.”  
  
As both boys reluctantly hauled themselves up, Harry gave in to his curiosity. “Why not just go to Madam Pomfrey for a pain relief potion, then?”  
  
Xander snorted. “Pain relief won’t solve the problem. It’ll just mask it for a while. Besides, wizards are entirely too big on solving all of their problems with magic. Pain relief potions are unnecessary when a simple cool down exercise will prevent the problem in the first place.  
  
Neville had finally regained his breath. “We’re wizards. Why not use magic if we can?”  
  
The professor snorted. “Spoken like a true pureblood, Neville. Let me give you an example. A group of muggles see a vampire kill some poor guy. What is the wizarding solution to what the muggles saw?”  
  
Neville shrugged. “They’d obliviate the muggles.”  
  
Xander nodded in agreement. “Yes they would. Why?”  
  
Neville blinked. “To preserve the Statute of Secrecy.”  
  
Xander shook his head. “No, they convinced the muggles nothing noteworthy had happened because of the Statute of Secrecy. They obliviated the muggles because those idiots are too damned lazy to take the five minutes time it would have taken to convince a confused muggle that the vampire was some psycho in a mask with a penchant for murder. Most muggles have been trained by modern society that the supernatural is not real. It takes very little work to offer them a more ‘realistic’ suggestion for what they really saw.”  
  
Harry and Neville stood, mouths agape, as their teacher, for the first time, really got on a soapbox and passionately explained his position on the matter.  
  
“Obliviation is only rarely necessary in all honesty. The only time I am in favour of using it is when someone comes upon the supernatural, realises what it means and then can’t cope with the knowledge. Unfortunately, that is not how the ministry operates. They live by a simple credo: If you’ve got a problem, throw magic at it. The fact that you are essentially violating the minds of the people you obliviate? Why should they care? They’re only muggles. As far as the ministry is concerned a muggle is lower than a kneazle…”   
  
Xander finally notice his shell-shocked students. “Sorry about that. I’m afraid I get rather bent out of shape on unnecessary and frivolous magic use. Obliviation, in particular, is a raw nerve for me.”  
  
The two boys nodded agreeably, still a little surprised. They hadn’t really seen a rant like that outside of Snape’s class, though at least this time it wasn’t really directed at one or both of them.  
  
Xander moved on. “Okay, I’ve got homework for you lads.” He stilled the resulting groans with an upraised hand. “I’m not asking for physical homework, though I’d strongly recommend you both run regularly to build up your stamina. No, your homework, due next week, is a paper on all of the spells you know and can cast. For each spell you name, I will want a description of the various ways in which the spell can be applied in defence. Most spells will have multiple potential answers.”  
  
Harry’s eyes gleamed with interest. “For example?”  
  
Xander smirked again. “For example the lumos charm. To give you just two examples: It can be used to provide you with light when you are fighting or fleeing in the dark, or it can be overpowered and used to temporarily blind an opponent, though I’d recommend caution with that strategy. You could just as easily blind yourself if you’re not careful.”  
  
The two boys nodded. “Yes, sir.”  
  
Harris surveyed them critically for a moment and then nodded. “You’re dismissed for today. I’ll see you boys in class and then again next Sunday.  
  
**  
  
 _Great Hall  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
November 6th 1994_  
  
The students and teachers had only just sat down to dinner when a barn owl flitted into the hall, and flutter unerringly to the head table and dropping a scarlet envelope into Xander’s dinner.  
  
Much of the student body watched the head table almost hungrily in anticipation of the forthcoming explosion. It was absolutely unheard of for a professor to receive a howler at the table. Frankly it was rare that they received mail at the table at all.  
  
Xander Harris merely raised an eyebrow in irritation as he removed the envelope from his meal and set it aside, making no move to open it. Instead he snapped his fingers and his oddly-dressed elf, Ripper, appeared and removed Xander’s dinner, replacing it with a new plate of food. The envelope continued to fume impotently on the table.  
  
As the student body waited with bated breath, the envelope apparently got tired of being ignored and animated, forming a distinctive mouth as a harsh voice swept the hall. “ALEXANDER HARRIS!!!”  
  
For most of the students, the loud voice was one which they hadn’t heard before. Molly Weasley’s dulcet tones, for example, were well known at Hogwarts. This new voice was unknown save to one student and a small percentage of the staff. Alexander Harris was one member of the small percentage that could identify it.  
  
The envelope moved to continue its tirade, but it would get no more words out. Xander firmly pinned the envelope to the table with a vicious stab of a dagger he had palmed under the table. Then, without so much as looking up from his dinner, Harris continued to eat as if nothing had occurred.  
  
**  
  
 _Longbottom Manor_  
Bristol, England  
November 6th 1994  
  
“You bellowed, Lady Regent?”  
  
The elderly countenance of Augusta Longbottom turned to offer up a glare to her son’s much-despised best friend. “I told you never to come here again when last we spoke, Alexander. Do I need to change the wards and force you?”  
  
Xander offered up an unimpressed sneer at Augusta’s statement. “Your howler stopped speaking rather abruptly after it shouted my name for the entire Great Hall to hear at Hogwarts, Lady Regent. Now, given that I stabbed the thing into silence, I don’t know precisely what it said, but given that you chose to make it public, I chose to assume it was an invitation to discuss something that was on you mind.”  
  
The old woman’s gaze narrowed, but she chose not to follow through on her threat yet. “Had you listened, my letter would have informed you that you are to have no interaction with my grandson beyond the classroom, Alexander.”  
  
Xander snorted in disgust. “You can take your ultimatums and stuff them, Lady Regent. I have waited over a decade to speak with my godson, and I will wait no longer.”  
  
“I am his guardian, Harris!” Augusta shouted, abandoning decorum. “I alone will decide who interacts with my s- grandson!”  
  
Xander shook his adamantly. “I am Neville’s godfather. I allowed you to have Neville’s guardianship because Neville needed the stability and you needed your family. That does not mean I intended for you to cut me out of his life entirely, Augusta! I have been patient for a decade, but my patience wanes.”  
  
“How dare you! You, who are as much to blame as the Lestranges for what happened to Frank, would dare to lecture me! If not for your telling Frank it was safe, Neville would still have his parents.”  
  
“Still playing the blame game, are we, Augusta? Then let us be fair. If anyone was to blame for that disaster, it was your father-in-law Harfang! They would have been safe enough behind Longbottom Manor’s wards if not for that blithering idiot!”  
  
“You go too far!”  
  
“Oh please! How do you think that the Lestranges got into the Manor while it was in lockdown? The only way in was through the secret passage which only family is ever told of. Even I only knew of it because I am Neville’s godfather and therefore family!”  
  
“And you accuse Harfang of revealing it, why?”  
  
“Harfang was always advising Barty Crouch the Elder concerning the pursuit of Death Eaters during the war. Crouch visited him here many times, even when the manor was in lockdown. The only way that might have happened is if old Harfang told him how to get in. All of a sudden, a group of death eaters, including Crouch the Younger, attack Longbottom Manor successfully while it’s in lockdown. Coincidence, I think not.”  
  
Augusta sighed and dropped into the seat. “Why did you never tell me, Alexander?”  
  
The grim-faced defence professor shrugged. “You never wanted to hear it, Augusta, and until now I was able to live with it. Your grandson came to me, Augusta. He so desperately seeks a father figure. I’m his godfather, Augusta. Let me have that much.”  
  
“Neville already has a father, Alexander, and I won’t have you take Frank’s place in Neville’s heart.”  
  
“Damn it, Augusta, Frank isn’t able to be a father to Neville. If he was then we wouldn’t be having this discussion. And your image of Frank, as something Neville should aspire to, is causing more harm than good for Neville.”  
  
“I know full well what I am doing…”  
  
“I should dearly hope not, Augusta. You are trying to turn Neville into a clone of Frank Longbottom and that is something that Neville will never achieve because he’s just too much his own person. He tries to be what you want. He tries so desperately, but he can’t, and the weight of that constant failure eats at him like a cancer. It’s not healthy, Augusta!”  
  
“So now I’m unfit to be his guardian. Is that what you are saying?”  
  
“No, Augusta, I am saying the same thing you have always said about Albus. You have too much on your plate and you have nothing but Yes-Men for your advisors. That may not be true of you in your political duties, but it is true in your personal duties. You are trying to be both mother and father to Neville, and the only people you listen to are Enid and Algie. God knows that they are family, but Enid and Algie do nothing but encourage you, even when you’re obviously wrong. Worse still, they follow your example and take it even further. Or do I need to reference the Neville-bouncing incident?”  
  
Augusta was shocked that Xander had somehow heard of that incident, but decided to focus on what was important. “I could have killed Algie, that day. I was terribly worried Neville would be a squib because of that idiotic Obliviator Lockhart, but to actually hang the boy out the window and then drop him… that was beyond the pale. I must say that it really bothered me that Neville never saw anything wrong with it.”  
  
“Let me help you, Augusta. I’m not trying to take him away. Just let me help.”  
  
The old woman inclined her head. “I suppose it’s long since time I forgave you, isn’t it? All right, Alexander. You may continue as you have been doing. You may even tell Neville who you are to him. You may even tell him why you haven’t been there for him. I won’t fight you anymore.”  
  
Xander wrapped Augusta in his arms and hugged her tight. “Thank you, my old friend. It’s good to have you back.”  
  
Augusta smiled sincerely and returned the hug. “It’s good to have you back too, you scamp.”  
  
~~  
  
  
Jasper


	14. The Godfather: Part II

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  


_Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_November 8 th 1994_

 

“When were you planning to tell me?”

 

Xander turned from the chalkboard to find that Neville had remained behind after class. It did not take a genius to figure out what the young teenager was angry about. “I’m assuming Augusta informed you about what I am to you, then?”

 

Neville nodded tersely, obviously rather angry at what he obviously regarded as a personal betrayal. “Where were you when I was growing up? I thought a person’s godfather was supposed to be there for them when their parents died.”

 

Xander winced slightly at that rather accurate statement. It was the truth, after all. A person’s godfather and/or godmother, in the magical world, existed to take up the role of parent should the actual parents ever perish. Xander motioned to a seat near the front. “Sit down, Neville.”

 

Neville looked mutinous for a moment, but soon appeared to decide he wanted answers, more than he wanted to be defiant of his godfather. He sat down and simply glared expectantly.

 

Harris looked back at his godson for a long moment before he finally tried to explain the situation. “Your parents were as good as dead and Augusta blamed me. She was not wholly right to blame me, but she had her reasons. I knew that to take you in as I should have, when Augusta had already lost her family, would have destroyed her. You were your Gran’s last connection to her son, and she needed that desperately. What’s more, I felt that my rather chaotic lifestyle would not have been a good environment for you to grow up in. Augusta’s life is much more settled and more conducive to the raising of a child…”

 

Neville was unsatisfied. “You could have still come to see me. You could have visited.”

 

“To do so would have meant defying Augusta’s direct demand that I stay away from you. I had allowed her to take custody, and felt that I should allow her to do as she felt best. It was a mistake, I admit. I should have forced the issue with your Gran long ago. I simply felt that… perhaps I blamed myself for Frank’s injuries, almost as much as your grandmother did…” Xander rubbed his head as if trying to massage some pain away.

 

Neville was still confused. Neither Xander nor his Gran had ever really clarified what Xander had done that had anything to do with Neville’s dad. “Why did you blame yourself?”

 

Xander smiled bitterly, remembering back. “I told them the war was over, when old Voldemort fell. I assumed that they would be safe in Longbottom Manor until the Ministry had mopped up the remaining Death Eaters. Unfortunately, the Lestranges and Crouch Jr. had somehow gained the knowledge on how to enter your home, even under lockdown. I had and still have my suspicions as to how that secret was betrayed, but…”

 

Neville’s face was practically set in stone. “How? Who betrayed the secret…”

 

Xander shook his head. “The man who I believe did it, died the night your parents were struck down. Does it really matter? The man did not do it purposely and he certainly paid a terrible price…”

 

“Dad?” Young Longbottom looked sick to his stomach. “Why would he…”

 

“No, Neville.” Xander’s voice was iron firm. “I’m not speaking of Frank. Frank did not die that night, though it often seems that way. The man I speak of actually died. Honestly, all you need to know is that the betrayal was an accident… an accident that cost the man his life… and much more. I have no wish to tarnish your knowledge of your family by giving you a name.”

 

Neville swallowed slowly, trying to rein in the anger that had built at hearing that his father’s almost-death had come partly at the hands of family. He understood why the professor did not want to give him a name, but part of him wanted it, just so he could spit on the man’s grave.

 

“Do not go the route of Professor Snape, Neville.”

 

Neville looked up in shock. It was as if the professor had read his… “You used legilimency on me!” His shocked voice practically dripped betrayal.

 

Xander shook his head, offering a sad smile. “No, Neville. Legilimency is a discipline that I have no skill at, just like occlumency. Your rage was clear to see in your face.”

 

Neville thought for a long moment before nodding his acceptance. Professor Harris had made it clear that occlumency was beyond him, and legilimency and occlumency were closely linked. “What do you mean about, Snape?”

 

Unlike most of the professors in this situation, Xander did not bother to correct ‘Professor Snape, Neville’. He understood that Neville was speaking as family, and so some proprieties could be dropped. “Severus is a troubled individual, Neville. He has many deep-seated issues that are frankly none of our business. The only reason I bring him up is because he is one of the best examples I know of a man who refuses to let go of his rage, even when the person he is angry at is dead. Death is the end, Neville. Even if death is not enough to pay back all of the misery a person caused in life, it is the most you will ever get. To let hatred of a dead person gnaw at you is counterproductive. It solves nothing and causes new problems. Many of your friend Harry’s problems with Professor Snape relate back to Severus’ anger at James and Lily Potter. He cannot take that anger out on them, and so he targets their son.”

 

Neville shook his head. “That’s not right.”

 

“No it’s not. Unfortunately, discipline of a professor falls under the aegis of the headmaster and the board of governors. The board of governors are all in the pockets of Lucius Malfoy or Headmaster Dumbledore. As for Albus… well, he won’t do anything about the situation.”

 

Neville was surprised to see the man hedge. “You really don’t think much of Professor Dumbledore, do you?”

 

Xander smirked faintly. “Did you know that I was once sorted, Neville?”

 

The young Gryffindor was confused by the sudden digression. “I had assumed you were, yes. Every Hogwart’s student is.”

 

Xander winked faintly. “Too true… but I was never a Hogwart’s student. My lovely wife was the one who taught me most of the basics, especially transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Auror Caradoc Dearborn taught me most of my more advanced magic, especially enchanting and battle magic. Anyway, while Minerva was instructing me, she became curious about what my house would have been. She had personally guessed either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff…”

 

Neville still didn’t know what this had to do with Dumbledore, but his curiosity was piqued. “So which were you?”

 

Xander waggled his eyebrows. “Neither. While I certainly like to believe that I possess the attributes of a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor, my house would have been Slytherin.”

 

Neville was utterly horrified. A member of his family, his godfather no less, was a stinking Slytherin? The entire house had been the bane of his existence since he had arrived in Hogwart’s.

 

Xander laughed at Neville’s horrified expression. “Oh, Neville, you have the exact same look on your face that dear Minerva did. She couldn’t believe that I, of all people, would be a Slytherin. I’m told that the fact that I’m a muggleborn makes that nugget of information even more shocking.” Xander smirked. “From your face I’d say you agree. Too many people associate Slytherin with the so-called Dark Lord, these days. They forget that Slytherin is the house of cunning and ambition, not of evil and bullies. Even some of the members of that house have forgotten that fact, though Severus’ coddling of them certainly exacerbates matters…” Xander cut himself off. “Anyway, I believe that the Slytherin motto firmly explains my sorting.”

 

Neville thought back to what he’d read some time ago in Hogwart’s: a History. “Trust no one…?”  


Xander shook his head. “You must have gotten that out of a newer book edition. That motto is recent revision of the Slytherin motto: ‘Question everything’.”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“What’s the diff…” Xander visibly bit back a temper tantrum. “That very question tells me that not enough magical children are taught the meaning of the motto. To trust no one is simply to never allow anyone close. It is a terribly lonely philosophy that encourages people to only think of themselves. The change in the motto is another of the reasons modern Slytherins tend to be worse than they should be. Question everything is a motto that require you to think critically. If I tell you the sky is blue, you should not automatically accept it. You should do research to confirm whether what you have been told is true. In the case of my assertion that the sky is blue, you would simply look up and check to confirm I’m right.”

 

Neville was swiftly losing the thread of their conversation. “How does your house or its motto relate to you hating Professor Dumbledore?”

 

Xander blinked faintly in shock. “I don’t hate, Professor Dumbledore. I just don’t much like him, either. As to how it all relates, Dumbledore and I don’t get along because I question everything.”

 

“Why would questioning everything cause that?”

 

Xander smirked once more. “Albus Dumbledore is a man who is very much used to getting his own way. He is not used to people questioning his actions or his motives. He is even less used to that being done by someone who is, officially, on the same side as he is.”

 

Neville blinked. “Professor Dumbledore doesn’t like to be questioned? That’s the reason you two don’t get along?

 

“Neville, my boy, that is just the tip of the iceberg. The history between Albus and I is long and complex. That being said, most of our issues come back to that. Ask your Gran if you don’t believe me. That issue is at the heart of her problems with Albus, as well.”

 

The boy was quiet for a long moment. “So you think I shouldn’t trust the professor, then?”

 

Xander shook his head emphatically. “Question _everything_ , Neville. Your grandmother’s opinions and my own are just that… ours. Your opinion of Dumbledore should be built out of the same things as your opinion of me… You should review your interactions with the person and the results of those interactions. Use your own knowledge and experience to decide who to trust. Never let another do your thinking for you, not even someone you trust. The moment you surrender your ability to form opinions to someone else is the moment you cease to be an individual.”

 

Neville smiled faintly. “So I’ll see you later, Professor?”

 

Xander nodded. “Yes, Neville, you will.” As his godson turned away, Xander called him back. “You can call me Xander, in private, Neville.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

~~

 

  
 

 _Jasper_  
  



	15. Truth, Justice and the Wizarding Way

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  


_Halls_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_November 14 th 1994_

 

“Harry you’ve got to talk to someone about this. You say that Professor Harris has been helpful, so why don’t you start with him?”

 

Harry sighed in frustration as he walked along between Hermione and Ron. Hermione was right, he knew, but he was so used to handling things himself that it was a truly bitter pill to swallow for him to run to the professors. The badges that had begun appearing yesterday had been bad enough. The article that Rita Skeeter had put out today had made matters even worse. He thanked Merlin above that Hermione had been so supportive and that Ron had only briefly been sulky. Knowing that he had their support was important to him, especially with virtually everyone else against him. “What if he won’t do anything, Hermione? You remember first year…”

 

“I do, yes. The circumstances are entirely different, Harry.” The brunette girl grew more passionate with every sentence. “In first year, we were involved in something that we weren’t supposed to be; possessing knowledge we should have known and were demanding to see the headmaster when he was absent. Professor McGonagall was understandably angry with us and so she told us to cease involvement. Professor Harris has already made himself available to you to protect you from this tournament…”

 

“But is this any different from second year, Hermione?” Ron finally spoke up. “I agree it’s not right, but Harry’s had this happen before and nothing was done about it.”

 

“I suppose you can only ask, then.” Professor Harris walked by the debating students as he walked to his office door. He paused, before entering, and turned to his gaping trio of students. “Did you want to come in and talk or simply stand there gaping?”

 

The trio simply stood there for another long moment before chasing after their DADA professor.

 

**

 

_Defence Against the Dark Arts Office_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_November 14 th 1994_

 

Xander sat behind his desks and looked up to find that the three kids had followed him in after all. He looked the three of them over briefly.

 

Harry was getting slightly taller and had put on a bit more muscle already from the extensive running Xander had been putting Harry and Neville through. He was also gratified to see the kid’s confidence levels were coming up in his various classes. Minerva had been very happy to tell her husband all about Harry’s general improvements. He wasn’t becoming a powerhouse or a genius, but he was gradually becoming a great deal better than he had been before.

 

Hermione was still skittish about Xander and still appeared to dislike him for one reason or another. That said, she was taking his advice to her to heart, if her more reasonably sized essays were anything to go by. She was even exploring the other arguments, once in a while; though he was sure she still thought his killing of Greyback was vile. Xander mentally snorted at that thought. If she knew how much that had done for werewolves in the United Kingdom, she would have been appalled. Granted things were still terrible, but Greyback’s actions had kept things much worse for the werewolf community, publicly justifying the harsher and harsher measures brought against them. Still, Xander was gratified that she had suggested that they seek him out.

 

Ron was being quiet, which was reputedly a very strange state, according to Minerva. He still hadn’t come to Xander (or anyone else) to talk about how he could improve, but he had apparently mended things with his friends, so Xander was inclined to grant himself a small victory there.

 

Xander finally gave up on his mental analysis and decided to open up the conversation. “So what can I help you with?” The three students seemed utterly shocked that he didn’t already know why they had wanted to see him. “I am not a psychic, nor did I hear more than the tail end of your conversation. I know that Hermione has suggested you see me and that Ron has suggested that past evidence means I won’t be of any help. I know nothing more than that.”

 

“But Professor… Surely you’ve seen the badges and read the _Daily Prophet_.” Hermione seemed utterly aghast that a professor was so ill informed about these things.

 

Xander blinked and considered. “I have seen a bunch of badges that said to ‘Support Cedric Diggory, the _real_ Hogwart’s Champion’ around. I must admit that I dislike the implication, but I decided to let it be. It really could have been a lot worse. As for the _Daily Prophet_ , I haven’t read that glorified scandal sheet in over a decade. It’s better used as toilet paper than newspaper, if you want my opinion.”

 

Harry’s face bespoke irritation, but his voice remained icy calm. “I take it you haven’t seen the other setting on the badges…?”

 

Xander blinked. _‘Those little…’_ “I can’t say that I have. Obviously the students are sharp enough not to show it in my presence. I take it the other setting is worse.”

 

Ron nodded “They say ‘Potter stinks’.”

 

Xander pinched his nose in irritation. He hated it when the little buggers were smart about their harassment. By making it an alternate setting, they could pick and choose who saw ‘Potter stinks’, avoiding the teachers who might punish them. It certainly explained why Minerva would have let it slide too. “I think you’d best lend me your copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , Miss Granger. I’d like to know what I’m dealing with before we discuss any further.”

 

Confused by the professor somehow knowing that she had the paper with her, but certainly willing to help, Hermione hand the paper to him.

 

Xander took an excruciatingly long five minutes to read through the article about Harry. As he put it down he found himself unsurprised. “Par for the course, I’m afraid. This sort of thing is Skeeter’s specialty. She really loves making that sort of crap up.”

 

Hermione was aghast. “But surely there must be something we can do. This is clearly libel. Harry ought to be able to sue her and the _Daily Prophet_ over this sort of thing. It’s the law…”

 

Xander nodded in agreement and then shot her down in flames. “It’s the law in muggle England and Scotland, yes. It’s not applicable in the magical versions, unfortunately. You may have noticed that I don’t think much of British magical publications, in general. That is because they are all completely under the thumb of those with money and influence. If you want to get something printed, throw money or influence at it. If you want to stop something from being printed, threat of force is pretty much it.”

 

Hermione shook her head. “That’s abominable.”

 

Xander grinned bitterly in reply. “That’s truth, justice and the wizarding way, I’m afraid. Trust me when I say that I’ve been defamed by those creeps many a time. The only time that I managed to get a retraction was when I threatened to call out the editor and the owner of the _Daily Prophet_ and then follow up with the writer of the article. They were quite willing.”

 

Harry was rather impressed. “What did they say that made you do that?”

 

Xander sneered in disgust. “They made certain inappropriate implications about my wife and our marriage. I won’t go into specifics except to say that it was all way over the line of good taste. I made it very clear that they could either print a very convincing retraction or they would all three of them be facing me in death duels. I will stand for many things being said by those idiots, but my wife and my marriage are off limits. They got the message… in spades.”

 

Ron and Harry looked very impressed and Hermione was displaying a small smile of satisfaction. Xander wasn’t surprised at her reaction. Granger may not have liked him very much, but she thought the world of her head of house. Hermione soon rallied back to the other topic at hand. “What about the badges? Surely you can do something about that.”

 

Xander nodded and turned to face Harry, since this was really about him. “There are multiple ways that we can deal with this, Harry… there is the Gryffindor way, the Ravenclaw way, the Hufflepuff way or the Slytherin way… We could also go with a combination.”

 

Xander was saddened, but unsurprised to hear Ron and Harry both choose the Gryffindor way right off. He was much more pleased to hear Hermione ask the all-important question. “What do those ways consist of?”

 

Xander smiled. “Thank you, Miss Granger. You offer me hope. That should have really been the first thing I heard. It’s a fact that Voldemort gained many of his supporters simply by saying ‘this is the Slytherin way’. It didn’t matter that what he said was a load of crap, it only mattered that he said so. Too many people are willing to follow their house’s ‘way’ no matter how abominable or false it may be.”

 

Ron and Harry both looked rather chagrined, but frankly they deserved to be. Honestly, Harry, at least, should have known better. “Now then… What is the Gryffindor way? Gryffindors are straightforward by nature and so they would charge the problem straight on by either attacking the people that wear these badges directly or by attempting to get someone in authority to confiscate the badges. The first would result in spells cast and detentions assigned, while the second would result in the decision being bucked up to Dumbledore where nothing will happen.”

 

Ron and Harry were now flushing beet red, recalling their duel with Malfoy in the halls which had resulted in them both landing a detention, just as Harris had predicted. Hermione, however, was curious about the latter. “Why do you believe the Headmaster wouldn’t do anything?”

 

Xander shrugged. “Professor Dumbledore is a great believer in turning the other cheek. That is a noble enough sentiment when you are dealing with crimes against yourself, but it’s less acceptable when the crimes are against those in your care and committed by those who are also in your care. I do not, obviously, agree with him. Regardless, I am confident that would be his response.

 

The Hufflepuff way would be for those who are loyal to Harry to boycott the badges and to work hard to improve Harry’s image throughout the school. This method will be effective only if you have enough people supporting you and it will most certainly take quite some time. That being said, it would probably be effective eventually.

 

The Ravenclaw method would be to use the facts to your advantage. You would attempt to convince those who wear the badges that they are untrue and not appropriate or to convince those in authority that the badges are against the rules. The former would be a useless gesture since most of those people who are wearing the badges are driven by emotions, not by logic. As for approaching authority figures for intervention, you might be able to win them over with logic. The problem there is that many of the students will see the confiscation of their badges as an attack upon their rights. It’s absurd, granted, but that’s how they’ll probably see it.

 

The Slytherin way, believe it or not, will probably be of the most use to you.” Xander smirked upon seeing Ron, in particular, looking unhappy with that declaration. “The Slytherin way would be to attack them subtly. There are two ways to go about this. The first would be for Harry to wear a badge that has only the first slogan on it. That should be enough to take the wind out of the sails of virtually anyone. You follow up by answering any questions about the second phrase by saying that you only display true statements.”

 

Harry was smiling. “I really like that. What’s the second way?”

 

Xander grinned in return. It was nice to see Harry exploring his options rather than jumping on the one that looked pretty. Progress at last. “The second option requires someone to enchant all badges so that the second slogan appears as ‘Bullying Stinks’. Anyone who complains about that slogan will look like a moron for complaining.”

 

Harry looked thoughtful for a long moment before grinning faintly as an idea formed. “What about this…?”

 

~~

 

Jasper


	16. The First Task

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  


Here at last, here at last, great god almighty it’s here at last. Ladies and gentlemen… The First Task…

  
~~  


_Tri-Wizard Arena_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_November 24 th 1994_

 

Harry brushed off his competitor’s robes as he made ready to enter the arena. He had trained hard over nearly a month to get himself in better shape physically and to improve his general spell knowledge and duelling skill. When asked about the tournament, Xander’s opinion had been very straightforward. “Don’t worry about the tasks. Just do the best that you know how. Forget about getting points. They’re just gravy. Survival is the name of the game. If you don’t think you can do the job, then back out and concede the task. And if anyone calls you on it, tell them where to go. It’s _your_ life on the line, not theirs. Never forget that.”

 

Harry nodded as he recalled the good advice. No points were worth his life. It faintly made him wonder at his sanity when he had taken Oliver’s ‘get the snitch or die trying’ advice to heart. What had he been thinking? Quidditch was fun, but it was still just a game.

 

Harry shook his head to clear it and then tapped the badge that he was wearing fondly. Oh but he had gotten a lot of mileage out of that over the past week and change. By wearing the badge that proclaimed ‘Support Cedric Diggory, the Real Hogwart’s Champion’, he had shut down a number of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. It really was hard to get high and mighty when the person agreed with you. The students who had flashed ‘Potter Stinks’ at Harry had seen the slogan ‘Bullying Stinks’ on Harry’s badge. That had really embarrassed all of the remaining Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and even a few of the Slytherins.

 

The pièce de résistance though, had been for the Slytherins that had complained. Whenever someone complained and got his badge confiscated, which had happened three times so far, the badge would display ‘Hypocrisy Stinks’ as a dual message to the student and the professor (usually Snape) involved. Snape could turn some really interesting colours. Harry was quite sure that even Vernon would be impressed at some of the shades of puce on display.

 

Harry calmly tapped his badge as he entered the stadium, dislodging it from his robes since he was not allowed to carry any magical item other than his broom and wand into the task. The Tri-Wizard Stadium had actually been erected around the Quidditch Pitch, replacing the old stands. The stadium would reputedly be staying when the tournament was done as a thank you to Hogwart’s for hosting.

 

Harry quickly refocused himself on his opponents. Viktor Krum was carrying a Firebolt, of course. That meant he would be the fastest in any straight flight, but probably not very maneuverable at the top speeds. Harry, naturally, shared that problem. Cedric was on a fairly new Cleansweep 10. That broom would offer him superior maneuverability, but much less speed. And Fleur’s broom was a French make that he was not familiar with. That left him with nothing to work with there. He’d have to make an assessment on the fly.

 

Harry’s breakdown of his opponents’ brooms’ capabilities was interrupted by Dorcas Meadowes. “Welcome one and all to the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This, my friends is Helga’s Test, the Test of Tenacity. The four champions will take to the skies on their brooms and duel it out. The duel continues until there is only one champion still in the air. A champion is out when they touch the ground. Champions and spectators will be happy to know that the pitch has been layered with countless charms to ensure that anyone falling from their broom will not be harmed by the fall. The only thing the champions have to fear is the spells of their opponents. Please note that while almost all spells are allowed during this duel, illegal spells are off the table and will count as falling off your broom. Half of the points awarded will be for how highly you place. The winner of the duel will receive twenty points; the last person defeated will receive fifteen points, etc… Also each judge may award between zero and four points for each champion’s individual performance. We all know that fine performers can be subject to bad luck and that some people can win by participating minimally. The judges’ rulings are meant to make up for things like that. Are the champions prepared?”

 

Harry felt a cold chill fill him as he and the other champions declared their readiness to face the challenge. He was three years their junior and Krum was a Quidditch phenomenon. _‘Don’t focus on the negative,’_ he admonished himself. _‘Consider the positives. You’ve never heard of duelling on broomsticks and so it’s probably not common. That means that maybe you won’t be the only one new to it. You’re also the smallest one here, which means you’re the hardest target to hit, especially on a fast broom.’_

 

Dorcas Meadowes’ voice filled the stadium. “Champions get into the air.” A short beat passed as Harry hesitantly climbed onto his Firebolt and took to the skies. “Let the task begin. Let no one call an end to it until there is a winner.”

 

Harry immediately dialled up the speed on his broom, just barely avoiding a reductor curse that had been flying his way from Krum. He remembered Xander’s lesson on the curse and conceded that it was an excellent spell choice. The reductor would pack enough punch to knock someone off their broom, but would also cause little physical damage, due to the nature of the spell. Still, that didn’t mean that Harry had any desire to feel it hitting him.

 

The task was getting ugly pretty quickly. Both Viktor and he were picking up a fair amount of damage, causing both of them to do as seekers traditionally did and try to avoid the action down below in the upper heights of the sky. It was quickly becoming apparent that the Firebolt, while an excellent seeker’s broom, was not the broom of choice for duelling on a broom. It was incredibly fast, but it lacked the necessary maneuverability to dodge as effectively as Cedric’s Cleansweep and Delacour’s broom.

 

The other two champions were proving much more effective and slugging it out with impunity. Harry studied the two carefully, while still keeping a weather eye on Krum. That sort of division of focus was thankfully second nature to a seeker, and so he was able to dodge Krum’s occasional spells in his direction with little effort. Right now he had to figure out how to improve his odds in this contest. He might not be in this to win, but there was no way he was going to embarrass himself by sitting things out or finishing last.

 

The battle between Delacour and Diggory was fierce and clever. Both of them were obviously quite skilled. Still, Delacour appeared to be getting the upper hand as the duel wore on. Cedric was simply too nice a guy to go all out against a woman, even one who could obviously take care of herself like Fleur could. Finally, it looked like Fleur was about to knock Cedric out. This was Harry’s moment. He dove down at full speed, hoping to change things up a bit. He prayed that his gamble wasn’t going to see his beloved Firebolt follow his Nimbus 2000 to an early grave.

 

Just as Cedric was unseated, Harry swerved by him and leaped into the air, landing on the newly abandoned broom and bolting away at full speed to avoid immediately following Cedric’s example by falling to the pitch. He finally got enough distance to turn about and see how the field had shifted.

 

Krum had apparently tried to use Fleur’s distraction to knock her out and had paid dearly for the privilege if the blood dripping off an arm wound was anything to go by. Delacour, meanwhile, was looking distinctly ruffled, but was still in fighting form. Harry caught sight of his Firebolt being summoned into the stands by Xander and breathed a sigh of relief. His gamble had paid out. He now had a more appropriate broom for this contest.

 

He zeroed in on Fleur quickly and began hammering at her with reductors, hoping to keep her off balance and to make use of the fact that Diggory had probably taken a lot out of her. Harry didn’t feel the same hesitance that Cedric had about firing at a woman. Aunt Petunia had taught him, without realising, that women were just as dangerous as men, just generally more subtle about it.

 

The Veela witch was a fearsome opponent and matched him shot for shot, taking blatant advantage of the fact that he was new to his current broom. That was certainly fair. He was equally trying to use her exhaustion against her to wear her down. A movement of the corner of Harry’s caused him to perform a sloth-grip roll, just barely dodging the spells that Krum flung at him as Krum, again, made a dive bomb attack on the main duel. This time things turned out even worse for Krum, as Harry’s blindingly fast recovery allowed him to knock Krum out with a rapid reductor to the chest.

 

Harry’s brief glow of pride at knocking a Quidditch phenom off of his broom was cut short when Fleur pelted him with spells and sent him plunging to the pitch. Harry’s last thought as the cushioning charms caught him was of gratitude, _‘At least I didn’t finish last.’_

 

~~

 

Jasper


	17. May the Force-Multipliers be with You

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  


_Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_November 29 th 1994_

 

Harry walked into the classroom, with a faint spring in his step. His performance in the first task had silenced quite a number of his detractors. While some of the Gryffindors were disappointed that he had been taken out by Fleur, and certain noteworthy Slytherins appeared hell-bent on mocking him for it, most people recognised that a solid second was a very respectable finish for someone with three less years of education than his competitors. Ron, ironically, had been one of the most supportive of the Gryffindors, though Hermione was still very supportive. Harry’s continued wearing of the ‘Support Cedric Diggory’ badge also appeared to appease the disappointed Hufflepuffs. They had not been pleased to see their champion in fourth, but they hadn’t been harassing Harry over it, so he called that a win.

 

A snap of the professor’s newspaper closing was the unofficial signal that class was about to begin. Professor Harris stood up and glanced over his students with an interesting expression. “Does anyone know what a force-multiplier is?” Most of the class was drawing a blank, with only Hermione and Dean raising their hands. “Mr. Thomas?”

 

The boy with the football obsession spoke up. “A force-multiplier is a muggle military concept that is used to illustrate why sometimes a smaller force will be able to defeat a much larger force. It assigns a value of one to each base soldier and then multiplies that value based on the various things that can make that soldier more effective then another soldier in a battle. If you calculate it properly, you should be able to figure out which side of any given battle will win.”

 

Draco apparently could not keep silent any longer. “What possible use is some muggle idea to a Defence Against the Dark Arts class?”

 

Rather than being irritated by the interruption, Harry was surprised to see that the professor appeared almost pleased by it. “An excellent question, Mr. Malfoy. Let us see if we can find out what use there is in this concept, for our purposes. First, we will need an example. Mr. Malfoy, who would win if you and I were to initiate a one-on-one death duel?”

 

The blond boy was obviously taken aback. “Are you threatening me, Professor? When my…”

 

“I am not threatening you, Mr. Malfoy.” The teacher’s voice was cool and calm. “We are discussing a purely theoretical concept. Who would win the duel?”

 

Hermione raised her hand again and, for a miracle, the professor actually picked her. “You would win, Professor.”

 

Harry and most of the classroom nodded in agreement, while Draco flushed at the apparent overall lack of confidence in his skills, even if he surely knew it to be true. The professor nodded, seemingly satisfied, before firing off a question at Hermione. “Why?”

 

Hermione looked confused for a moment. Certainly everyone in the classroom knew that Draco would lose a death duel to the defence professor. It was just… obvious. Finally Hermione seemed to rally. “Well sir, you’re quite a bit older than Draco…”

 

The professor nodded in satisfaction and then wrote out ‘Age’ on the board. “Age is a particularly fascinating force-multiplier. First of all you must not confuse age with experience or wisdom.” Harris wrote both of those words onto the board as well. “While both of those are often paired with age, they are not necessarily associated with each other. Age also doesn’t peak in its quality at one of the ends. When discussing a death duel, the way we are, a witch or wizard will improve from birth until they hit their physical and magical peak around twenty. They will continue to maintain this peak, well into their forties and even fifties, before their bodies begin to slow down. Draco, for example, is only fourteen. Magically he still has at least one major growth spurt to go and physically he has about the same. I, myself, am at my magical peak and will remain so for the majority of my life. Physically, I am a bit past my prime, but wizards take a long time to degrade physically. From that perspective, I rate higher. What other multipliers do we have available? Don’t be afraid to offer Draco’s advantages. I assure you he does have some.”

 

Harry was amused to find that Draco perked up at the assertion that there were some things about him that were better than Harris. Harry nearly sighed in exasperation when Draco offered his contribution. “I’m a pureblood. You’re a mu- muggleborn.”

 

Most of the class, Harry included, froze in shock at the bold assertion. Shockingly, the teacher nodded. “That is an interesting force-multiplier, Mr. Malfoy. You being a pureblood does offer you some advantages, while my being muggleborn offers me some, as well.”

 

Draco appeared offended by the idea that a muggleborn might have an advantage over him, but Xander never really gave him a chance to speak. “A pureblood is almost always raised in the magical world. This conveys knowledge of spell theory prior to Hogwart’s that is difficult to overcome. This means that a pureblood is more likely to progress quickly in their classes, because they have a head start on the theory. Still more, pureblood lines will often deliberately breed in some of the more exotic abilities that are so rare in our world… A full metamorphmagus or a parselmouth is practically unheard of in a muggleborn, though half-bloods have certainly been known to possess these talents. More common talents like animagus, partial morphing and enchanting have been found in every type of magical human about…”

 

Draco was looking much happier after the listing of why purebloods were superior. Harris, however, was not done. “Muggleborns, on the other hand, come from a society without magic. What this has done, is to force muggles to adapt and change with startling rapidity by our standards. What this means is that a muggleborn, or one who was raised in muggle society, is inherently more likely to adapt and invent on the fly, a truly limitless advantage if it is applied correctly…”

 

**

 

_Deputy Headmistress’ Quarters_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_November 29 th 1994_

 

The class had continued on in that vein for quite some time, but Professor Harris’ assertion had stuck with Harry. Professor Harris had called animagus a ‘common’ ability. If that was so, then why were there so very few animagi registered on that list Hermione had found last year. Even making allowances for Harry’s dad, Sirius and Wormtail did not seem to make that list seem anywhere close to being complete.

 

Still if animagus was really common, then maybe it was something that Harry could achieve. Maybe he could rediscover one of his parents through the transformation? Harry knocked on Professor McGonagall’s door, hoping Professor Harris was in…

 

~~

 

For those who care, I have an exact breakdown of the Scores:

Harry Potter: 15 (Base Score); 3 (Dumbledore); 3 (Maxime); 2 (Karkaroff); 3 (Meadows); 3 (Crouch) = **_29_**

Cedric Diggory: 5 (Base Score); 4 (Dumbledore); 3 (Maxime); 2 (Karkaroff); 4 (Meadows); 2 (Crouch) = **_20_**

Fleur Delacour: 20 (Base Score); 4 (Dumbledore); 4 (Maxime); 3 (Karkaroff); 4 (Meadows); 3 (Crouch) = **_38_**

Viktor Krum: 10 (Base Score); 2 (Dumbledore); 2 (Maxime); 3 (Karkaroff); 3 (Meadows); 1 (Crouch) = **_21_**

 

Jasper


	18. The Way We Were

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.  
  
~~  


_Deputy Headmistress’ Quarters_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_November 29 th 1994_

 

Minerva McGonagall glanced up from correcting an essay when she heard the door open and shut. “Alexander?”

 

“Yes, it’s me, Min.”

 

Minerva took in Xander’s tired expression with a glance. “I take it today was somewhat trying?”

 

A sardonic grin crossed Xander’s face in response to his wife’s comment. “Let’s just say that young Mr. Malfoy really tries to tap-dance on every nerve I have… or he would if he could ever lower himself to attempting such a _muggle_ dance. That kid really does try my patience with his pureblood supremacist crap.”

 

The lady raised an eyebrow in challenge. “And yet I noticed no fluctuations in the points or detentions during your class. They are there for a reason, Love.”

 

The one-eyed man snorted. “Points just punish the house for the actions of the individual. Besides, Severus makes the points system such a mockery that anything I did would be pointless anyway.” Xander grinned and waggled his eyebrows incorrigibly as he realised his own, unintentional pun.

 

His wife sighed. “And the lack of a detention, Alexander? Surely that still has some effect. Or is that another problem with Albus’ administration you’d like to address.” Minerva was apparently tiring a bit of being in the middle of their constant head-butting, although Xander and Albus were usually pretty good at trying to spare her from it.

 

Xander shot an apologetic glance at his wife. “I’m sorry about the points thing, Min. And, in Albus’ defence, the points system is a problem that he’s inherited, though I will state that his inability to rein in Severus in making a bad issue worse.” The feline glare, his wife levelled at him, put Xander back on his heels. “The detention thing is fine, though. I just prefer to avoid dumping them on people though. I had more than enough of them as a kid. Besides, the one thing Draco needs more than discipline is education. If I had broken my flow by issuing a detention, my points wouldn’t have been as effective.” A smirk blossomed once more on that conniving face of his. “Besides, nothing quite gives me as much pleasure as to turn rhetoric to my own purposes.”

 

Minerva smiled faintly. Xander’s truest gift was his skill as a hunter, but he was a pretty solid teacher too. She was grateful that she had been able to convince the two most important men in her life to work together, however tumultuously they might do so… “You do realise that you enjoy manipulating people almost as much as Albus does.”

 

Minerva’s teasing tone was the only thing that kept Xander from hitting her with a hurt look. “My manipulations exist only to make people look their prejudices over and apply some painfully rare logic to it. Too many wizards are sorely lacking in that particular treasure. Or do I need to remind you of how we met?”

 

Minerva actually allowed herself a most unladylike snort at the memory. “Master Hobart… Oh but that was just… So very absurd…” Minerva was having trouble stopping her laughter.

 

“Wasn’t it just.”

 

**

 

_Local Rainforest_

_Belgian Congo_

_August 15 th 1954_

 

Upon her graduation from Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft, with such titles as Quidditch Captain and Head Girl firmly under her belt, Minerva McGonagall had sought to emulate her favourite teacher, Albus Dumbledore, in his chosen study of transfiguration. As such, she had sought to train under an accomplished Master of the arts, in order to achieve her own mastery in the subject. Her master proved to be an easygoing man named Alberto Hobart.

 

Now Alberto, while easygoing enough, was an avid adventurer who fancied himself something of an amateur historian and curse-breaker. As such, Minerva quickly found herself swept off to any number of exotic and bemusing locales over the course of her six years of training for her mastery. It was when Minerva was only a couple of months short of her nineteenth birthday when she and her illustrious master had journeyed to the Belgian Congo in search of an ancient magical temple… Don’t misunderstand; Hobart worked really hard at teaching his apprentice too. He just preferred to teach on the road whilst adventuring.

 

“Master… Are you sure that this is the way to the Temple of Bumbo.”

 

“I can assure you, my dear, I am quite adept at reading a map.”

 

Minerva rolled her eyes expressively, silently doubting that any man could manage to read a map properly… of those that would even deign to, anyway. “Of course, Master Hobart. I’m sure that your reading of the map is perfectly accurate and that the rainforest about us will no doubt part and reveal the temple any minute. Doubtless Bumbo himself will be coming to greet you.”

 

As Hobart turned to berate his sarcastic apprentice, the jungle parted and a large portal opened before him, spilling out a one-eyed youth, bleeding from his wounds and covered in a green goop that any defence master would have recognized as the lingering, slimy remains of a chaos demon. Unfortunately, Hobart’s specialty was transfiguration and his hobby was curse-breaking. Demonology and such did not really come into matters.

 

“Bumbo… is it really you?” Hobart’s voice was filled with awe.

 

It only took moments for the disoriented and sorely wounded young man to finally give in to the nausea he was experiencing and puke violently on the nearest available surface… Master Hobart’s shirt-front.

 

Alberto Hobart had never been more honored in his life. He was somewhat less honored when the young man revealed that his name was Xander Harris and that he was not, in fact, Bumbo…

 

**

 

_Deputy Headmistress’ Quarters_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_November 29 th 1994_

 

“I still can’t believe that idiot thought that I was a god… much less that I had blessed him…”

 

Minerva grinned. “He thought that he’d been vomited on by the god of vomit. What is more of a blessing than receiving a god’s aspect?”

 

Xander threw a half-hearted glare at his wife. “You’re telling me you’d be honoured to be crapped upon by the god of manure?”

 

“Not I, of course, but Master Hobart would have surely been enthralled.” She giggled in memory. “I still can’t believe you then claimed to be the Wizard of Oz. The poor man never had a muggleborn roommate like I had. He actually thought you were from Australia then…”

 

Xander sighed “Ironically, it also led to me discovering that I was, in fact, a wizard.”

 

“Mmmm… Too true. A good thing too. I’d hate to be married to a charlatan like the so-called wonderful wizard.”

 

A knock on the door interrupted the couple’s reminiscing and Xander heaved the door open to reveal a dishevelled young Harry Potter. “Well hello there, Mr. Potter. What can we do for you today?”

 

~~

 

Jasper


	19. Isn't It Enchanting?

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.

*Desperately dodges the pitchforks and torches.* I know, I know... I'm very, very late. My bad. This chapter took me quite a while to get to where I'm halfway happy with it. I think I'm finally there now. I hope it was worth the wait. Next week, I intend to post a new entry in the 31 Halloween Knights.

~~

 _Deputy Headmistress’ Quarters_  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  
 _November 29th 1994_

Standing nervously in front of the Deputy Headmistress’ quarters, Harry tried desperately not to fidget. The last time that he had come to this room it had been at Professor Harris’ insistence. He’d never been to a professor’s quarters before or since and was not precisely sure if such things were strictly allowed. Still, he had made sure to knock on the door firmly. It simply wouldn’t do to let his nervousness show. He was a Gryffindor after all and Gryffindors charged forward.

It seemed like hours, though in reality it was all of thirty seconds, before the brass knob twisted and the door was drawn back to reveal Professor Harris. Contrary to Harry’s worries, the professor flashed a comforting grin and asked what they, Professor McGonagall being present as well, could do for him.

Harry fought down his hesitation. He had ignored the concept of the animagus since last year solely because he had believed it to be a rare ability. He would ignore it no longer. “Professor, you said in class that animagus is a common ability. How can that possibly be when the animagus registration list is so… small?”

The professor turned to flash a grin at his wife, bowing deferentially to her at that. “While I am quite well versed in the reasons for that, perhaps my good wife would prefer to tackle this one. It is, after all, her area of expertise.”

Harry was shocked to see the usually stiff Professor McGonagall leveling a teasing expression at her husband. “Passing the buck, eh Alexander? Typical… A woman’s work is never done.” And then, almost as if the playfulness had never occurred, Professor McGonagall’s face returned to its usual serious professionalism. “My husband was quite correct when he claimed that animagi were very common or, more correctly, that those with the ability to become an animagus are very common. I believe research has shown that something like a third to half of Wizarding Britain has the ability to become an animagus. That being said, the number of those who have become one are very low.”

“But… but why?” Harry sputtered. “Being an animagus seems so wicked. If you had the ability, why wouldn’t you follow through?”

The transfiguration professor turned back to her husband. “You are the more qualified for explaining why you wouldn’t want to complete the transformation.” Her voice was tinged with something Harry couldn’t identify. Was it disappointment that her husband hadn’t become an animagus too, or was it something else entirely?

Professor Harris frowned slightly. “Becoming an animagus is not an easy or swift process, Harry. Even assuming you have the talent, it requires a lot of dedication and focus to achieve. It’s an endeavour that will take at least two years before you can really get use out of it, which often puts some people off. Even if you manage the transformation, however, you do not control what you will become. The animagus transformation is a reflection of the animal that reflects your inner soul and that animal is not always one that is pleasing to you, or useful, for that matter.

“For example, I understand that Viktor Krum is studying to be an animagus and is almost at the level of full transformation. He is already registered with the Bulgarian authorities. His form, when complete, will be that of a great white shark. Now, while that form would be very useful in the water, it is absolutely useless outside of it. Krum feels, for whatever reason, that this transformation is worth it to him and so he pursues it regardless of its limitations…

“I, on the other hand,” The professor’s frown deepened in disgust, “Am gifted with the form of a spotted hyena, Harry. Suffice it to say that, for reasons that are deeply personal to me, I absolutely refuse to pursue that form despite its limited potential usefulness to me.”

“And so, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall took up the explanation again, “The answer to the question that you have not asked is this: “If you wish to become an animagus you must have the commitment to dedicate years of your life to it before you can really get anything out of it, and you must be willing to embrace your form regardless of what you feel it says about you. My husband is far from alone in his rejection of his form. Most of those who are told that their forms are something that they feel to be rather a pathetic animal will choose not to pursue it.

“My husband here, for example, chose to pursue the skill of enchanting once his potential animagus form was revealed to him. He felt that enchanting, which he had already been revealed to be adept at, was a better course of study for him.”

“Enchanting,” Harry tasted the word on his tongue. “What exactly is enchanting?”

“Enchanting,” Professor Harris spoke up again, “Is another common magical ability. It is rarer than animagus, covering only a quarter to a third of Magical Britain, but it is still quite prevalent. Enchanting is the ability to permanently imbue spells, particularly charms and curses, into an object.”

“That’s it?” The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“Gryffindors.” The absolutely disgusted drawl drew an irritated raised eyebrow from Harris’ wife, but she remained silent. Harris continued. “That’s it, Mr. Potter? You speak from a sad lack of vision there. The ability to enchant an object is the ability to change the entire battlefield. My eye patch, for example, is heavily enchanted. I have a spell upon it that prevents others from using legilimency on me, despite my inability to use occlumency. I also have a rather delightful curse upon it so that anyone who attempts to remove the patch and wishes me harm will be… punished rather vociferously.” The almost predatory smirk on the professor’s face was disturbing, and yet… and yet that did sound useful.

“Better still,” the professor continued, “you can enchant objects with spells in advance of a battle in order to save your strength magically. Enchanting an object naturally takes as much, actually more, out of you then simply casting the spell in a fight. The advantage, though, is that you can enchant your object and recover, and then use it later without using any new magical energy during the actual fight.”

“How…” Harry hesitated. “How does one find out what sort of talents they have? I know that I’m a parselmouth, but that’s not very useful and I’d like to know if I could be an animagus or an… enchanter? Is that the term?”

“It is the term, Mr. Potter,” Harris replied, “But do not dismiss the usefulness of such a rare talent as parselmouth. I don’t know what you can do with it, given the stigma against it in most of the western nations, but I understand that the Indians and the Australians in particular revere those few with the parselmouth talent. Perhaps you should seek out one of the Patil twins and see what they have to say. They are fairly new to Britain, after all, and might at least be amenable to contacting a knowledgeable relative who can help you explore it fully.”

Seeing that Harry was considering his point, the professor apparently decided to get back to answering Harry’s actual question. “And as for revealing the scope of your abilities… that would require a revealing potion. I’m afraid that potions of that nature are not amongst my skills. The only people in house that could produce one are Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. The potion is rather complex, you see. Most people who seek the revealing potion go to Gringotts and pay a mint to have them find an appropriately skilled potions master.”

“Actually, Alexander, there is one other appropriately skill potions master in house at the moment. Olympe Maxime, unless I am wrong, was the potions mistress for Beauxbatons before her ascension to headmistress.”

Professor Harris grinned a rather unsettling grin. “Well now… that might be useful indeed…”

~~

 _Beauxbatons Carriage_  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  
 _December 6th 1994_

“We thank you for granting young Harry this opportunity, Madame Maxime.”

The Beauxbatons Headmistress smiled faintly at Xander as she stirred her cauldron precisely. “It is nozzing, Professor Harris. It offers me ze opportunity for my own champion, as well. Fleur will benefit greatly from zis potion. Monsieur Potter, are you ready?”

Harry shivered faintly. This was his future on the line. “I’m ready, Professors. Harry cautiously looked over the glass of bluish sludge that had been presented to him before drinking it down. In that moment, he noted that he was displaying a rather visible aura, though he was not able to make any sense of it for himself. Harry had the sense of a zoological exhibit as both Harris and Maxime stared sharply at him and made copious notes. The waiting was interminable as the two professors compared their notes and appeared to compile it all into a final report.

Finally, mercifully, Harris turned and bowed to Maxime. “Your assistance and experience has been invaluable, Madame Maxime. Would you like me to remain to assist you with Delacour?”

Harry practically twitched with impatience, but Beauxbatons’ Headmistress was merciful. “Non, Professor Harris. One of my own head students can provide a second set of eyes for Fleur’s potion.”

Harris bowed deeper. “Then we two will take our leave and bother you no more. We thank you again for your assistance, Headmistress.”

Harry managed to muster a thank you too as they exited, before impatiently turning to his professor for details.

To Harry’s utter irritation, Harris said nothing. Instead, the professor led the boy up to the DADA classroom in utter silence. Even upon arriving, the professor fired off any number of spells about the classroom, apparently checking for spies. Finally satisfied, the professor returned his gaze to the student. “Now, would you care to discuss the results of the revealing potion?”

“Yes…” Harry practically descended into parseltongue with that hiss. “What is with all of the secrecy, Professor? Maxime already knows what you saw and will doubtless tell Delacour.”

“Madame Maxime and Miss Delacour, Harry. Being respectful costs you nothing and creates a good impression of you in the eyes of observers.”

“Even with someone who shows no respect in return?”

“Especially then, Harry. If you show respect while the person you speak to shows none, then that makes them look the fool. If, however, you fail to show proper respect, then that failure in others will be overlooked as being justified.”

Harry chewed his lip, not liking the idea of showing respect to Snape after Snape had spent so long denigrating him, and yet not able to dispute the professor’s point. Finally he decided to turn back to the previous topic instead. “What about the revealing potion, Professor?”

Harris smiled faintly. “Madame Maxime has been bound by oath to keep secret that which is revealed in the revealing potion. It is a common thing for people to wish to keep their talents quiet. It can be quite advantageous. The animagus registry is another reason people often avoid that transformation. The registry takes away a primary advantage of the talent… anonymity.”

Harry huffed faintly in frustration. “But what are my talents?”

Xander smirked. “You are really quite talented, Harry. You have one rare talent and three separate common talents. You are a parselmouth, an animagus, an enchanter and a partial metamorph.”

Harry gaped. That all sounded great, but… “What does that all mean, Professor? I mean, you told me some last week, but the whole lot of it.”

Xander nodded sagely. “I believe that I told you last week that the Patil twins were your best bet for information on being a parselmouth. I also believe that I clarified the issue of what an enchanter is back then. That only leaves animagus and metamorph. An animagus, you already know about. You simply wish to know your form. You are a Death’s-head Hawkmoth.”

“A moth?” Harry gaped in shock and rage. “I’m a moth.”

Xander’s face was merciless. “Be grateful that your form, at least, is not a constant reminder of a traumatic experience from your childhood, Mr. Potter. Do recall that I warned you that not everybody appreciates their form. You do not actually have to pursue it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t…”

“Well then, I suggest you focus on one or more of your many other talents, Harry. It’s not like animagus was your only one.”

Harry finally managed to calm down. He had assumed, perhaps even hoped, that his form would be similar to his father’s. It was a disappointment, but the professor was right. He had other talents he could explore. “What exactly is a partial metamorph?”

Harris dropped the previous topic readily. Apparently he hated discussion of his animagus form rather ardently and was quite willing to move on. “Partial metamorph is a very limited form of shapeshifting that presents in a variety of different ways, most often being a person being able to change their hair colour.”

“But I can’t do that.”

“No you can’t. I said that was a typical representation. Your ability appears to manifest to reinforce your self-image. You believe that you are meant to look a certain way and your metamorph ability works constantly to maintain it.”

“Would that cause my hair to grow back overnight after it was shaved off?”

“Almost certainly.”

“What about my scar?”

Harris shrugged. “Either the magic in the scar was sufficient to overpower your metamorph powers or the scar is incorporated into your self-image.”

Harry sighed. “That doesn’t sound very useful.”

“It isn’t. The more common the ability is, Harry, the more likely it is to either be difficult to master or relatively useless in the grand scheme.”

“So what would you recommend then, Professor?”

Xander smirked faintly. “Look into your rare ability as you may, Harry. I’m sure there is something useful to be found in it. As for your common abilities, I would be willing to teach you enchanting as part of our sessions. Perhaps you can visit New Mexico when you’ve fully mastered your talent.”

“Huh?”

Xander sighed. “My humour is still wasted on the young and British….”

~~

Until next week folks

Jasper


End file.
